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THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


I 


'  > 


4 


..  V'  r 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


ONE  YEAR 

IN 

GRACE  AGUILAR’S  GIRLHOOD 


BY 

ABRAM  S.  ISAACS 

Author  of  "  Step  by  Step" 


Philadelphia 

The  Jewish  Publication  Society  of  America 

1913 


r*’  \ 


Copyright,  1913. 

BY 

The  Jewish  Publication  Society  of  America 


PREFACE 


Few  lives  can  be  more  helpful  to  our 
young  people  to-day,  to  our  girls  in  particu¬ 
lar,  than  that  of  Grace  Aguilar.  She  pos¬ 
sesses  the  distinction  of  being  a  modern 
author,  instead  of  an  ancient  heroine. 
Doubtless  some  are  still  living  that  knew 
her,  for  she  died  only  sixty-five  years  ago. 

There  has  been  no  conscious  attempt  to 
idealize  her  character  or  exaggerate  her 
importance.  To  make  her  the  centre  of  a 
group  of  happy  girls  of  her  age,  it  was 
thought,  would  serve  to  add  to  her  influ¬ 
ence.  That  certain  liberties  have  been 
taken  with  Mrs.  Hall’s  friendship,  may  be 
excused  for  a  similar  reason.  There  is  no 
exact  evidence  that  she  met  Moses  Monte- 
fiore  or  Benjamin  Disraeli,  or  that  she 
quoted  from  Shakespeare  on  a  certain  walk 

with  her  friend  in  the  streets  of  London. 

5 


■w  ■'St'. 


PREFACE 


But  here  again  the  critic  need  not  be  too 
severe.  In  fiction  the  end  often  justifies  the 
means. 

In  the  hope  that  the  story  may  prove 
readable  to  our  young  people,  and,  brief 
though  It  be,  suggestive  to  their  parents — 
for  It  touches  on  topics  that  can  no  longer 
be  Ignored  by  those  who  wish  Jewish  foun¬ 
dations  to  be  permanent,  and  who  see  little 
prospect  for  the  strengthening  of  Jewish 
Ideals  except  In  the  old-fashioned  balance- 
wheels — this  little  volume  Is  submitted  to 
the  public.  May  It  meet  as  appreciative  a 
reception  as  that  accorded  to  Its  prede¬ 
cessor,  “  Step  by  Step.” 

A.  S.  I. 

New  York  University. 


6 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

1.  Mother  and  Daughter .  9 

II.  Home  Influence  .  22 

III.  An  Adventure  .  34 

IV.  A  Sabbath  Chat .  47 

V.  A  New  Friend .  59 

VI.  Leaves  from  a  Diary . 72 

VII.  A  Rainy  Afternoon .  85 

VIII.  In  the  Orchard .  98 

IX.  In  the  Shadow .  112 

X.  A  Hanukkah  Night .  125 

XI.  A  Batch  of  Letters .  139 

XII.  Devonshire  Days  .  153 

XIII.  A  Surprise  .  167 

XIV.  What  the  Years  Told .  182 


7 

i 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


I 

MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 

Along  the  open  country  road,  only  a 

short  distance  from  the  noise  and  smoke  of 
London,  and  yet  forming  a  part  of  the 
great  city,  which  was  the  world’s  famous 
capital  even  a  century  ago,  there  ran  a 
happy  girl  of  about  twelve.  High-browed, 
bright-eyed,  with  a  pensive  look,  which 
changed  quickly  as  some  trifling  object — a 
flower,  a  leaf,  a  squirrel — aroused  her 
attention,  it  was  a  face  that  could  hardly  be 
called  beautiful.  But  it  was  none  the  less 
attractive.  Its  strength  was  in  its  expres¬ 
sion,  which  was  perhaps  too  thoughtful  for 
one  of  her  years. 

Who  can  describe  the  charm  of  English 

9 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


fields,  with  their  neatly-trimmed  hedges, 
the  trees  so  rich  in  bough  and  leaf,  with 
here  and  there  a  mass  of  common  flowers 
brightening  the  scene,  the  wonderful  color 
of  the  sward,  a  deep  velvety  green?  The 
birds,  some  of  radiant  hue,  darting  joy¬ 
ously  from  bush  to  bush,  from  tree  to  tree ; 
the  soft,  fleecy  clouds  with  their  perpetual 
play  of  sunshine  and  shadow;  the  air  so 
cool  and  refreshing  in  early  June;  the  long 
stretches  of  meadow  in  the  distance,  with 
the  laborer  faithfully  at  work,  and  no  sound 
disturbing  the  stillness  except  the  shrill 
Caw !  Caw !  of  a  bird  in  flight  or  the  whir¬ 
ring  of  many  wings — all  this  made  the 
morning  one  of  rare  beauty.  What  a  pre¬ 
cious  privilege  to  breathe  the  fragrance  and 
enjoy  the  luxury  of  living  on  such  a  perfect 
day! 

“  I  wonder  where  mother  is,”  the  girl 

exclaimed,  as  she  stopped  for  a  moment, 

and  gave  a  glance  backward.  “  Perhaps  I 

10 


/ 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


have  gone  a  little  too  fast  for  her.  Why, 
there  she  is !  Mother,  mother,  here  I  am ! 
I’ll  wait  for  you  here  under  the  tree.” 
And  down  she  sat  beneath  a  towering  oak 
of  huge  girth,  which  seemed  tall  and  mighty 
enough  to  have  flourished  when  the  Nor¬ 
mans  came  to  England,  or  perhaps  as  early 
as  when  King  Alfred  in  masquerade,  so  it  is 
told  us,  let  the  bread  burn  in  the  oven — 
what  a  careless  baker,  indeed! 

“  Grace,  you  certainly  have  Improved  as 
a  runner,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  exclaimed  as  she 
reached  her  daughter,  and  rested  close  by 
her  side.  “  The  country  air  has  done  won¬ 
ders  for  you.  It  was  a  chase  in  earnest  to 
catch  up  with  you.  Well,  now  we  can 
remain  here  for  a  while  before  we  return 
home.” 

“You  rest,  mother,  for  you  look  rather 
tired,  but  I  want  to  bring  home  some  flow¬ 
ers  and  make  a  wreath  for  father.”  And 

away  Grace  ran,  busying  herself  in  an  adja- 

11 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


cent  meadow,  and  soon  returning  with  a 
mass  of  wild  flowers. 

“  Mother,”  she  said  suddenly,  placing 
the  flowers  carefully  on  the  ground,  and 
sinking  down  by  her  mother’s  side,  “  may  I 
go  to  school  in  September?  You  know 
how  dearly  I  wish  to  go,  mother  dear.” 
And  she  caressed  her  mother  tenderly  as 
she  spoke. 

“  Now,  my  daughter,  had  you  not  better 
leave  the  matter  to  your  father  and  myself? 
We  know  surely  what  is  best  for  you,  do  we 
not,  little  girl?  ” 

“  But,  mother,”  came  the  rather  impa¬ 
tient  response,  “  all  the  girls  go  to  school, 
and  if  I  remain  away,  I  shall  know  as  little 
as  Shep,  our  neighbor’s  dog.  I  want  to 
have  more  education,  indeed  I  do.  You 
must  know  that.” 

“  Why,  Shep  is  not  so  ignorant,  my  pre¬ 
cious  child.  Just  think  how  he  watches  the 

house,  how  he  growls  suspiciously  when  a 

12 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


stranger  approaches,  and  barks  with  joy 
when  those  whom  he  loves  draw  near.  I 
do  not  call  Shep  ignorant  because  he  can¬ 
not  read  or  write  or  spell.” 

“  O  mother,  you  know  what  I  mean. 
Have  you  not  often  told  me  that  it  is  the 
mission  of  Israel  to  spread  knowledge? 
Now,  how  can  I  spread  knowledge  if  I  do 
not  learn  in  my  youth  ?  ”  And  Grace  began 
to  look  somewhat  dissatisfied. 

“  Grace,  my  darling,  you  forget  how  ill 
you  have  been,  and  how  we  were  obliged  to 
take  you  from  school,  until  you  recovered 
your  strength  fully.  That  you  are  much 
stronger  now,  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
send  you  back  to  your  school  lessons. 
Believe  me,  my  daughter,  your  father  and  I 
will  not  neglect  your  education,  and  we  are 
hopeful  that  you  will  develop  all  the  abili¬ 
ties  you  possess,  to  become  a  blessing  to 
Israel.  And  you  cannot  deny  that  you  are 

progressing,  dearest.” 

13 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“  Yes,  mother,  but — ” 

“  You  have  your  regular  studies  each 
day,  and  both  your  father  and  I  take  special 
care  that  our  religion  and  its  history  are 
taught  faithfully.  Every  Sabbath  he  reads 
to  you  out  of  our  Sacred  Writings,  and  tells 
you  about  some  famous  heroes  and  heroines 
of  our  people.  And  I  am  not  neglectful, 
am  I?  Do  I  not  speak  to  you  of  those 
home  duties  and  influences  that  keep  Juda¬ 
ism  as  everlasting  as  the  Ner  Tamid,  the 
Eternal  Light,  in  our  old  synagogue  in 
London?  ” 

Grace  could  not  resist  the  force  and  per¬ 
suasiveness  of  her  mother’s  words,  and  she 
gave  her  a  hearty  kiss. 

“  Trust  me,  child,”  she  continued  earn¬ 
estly.  “  Your  mother’s  school  is  best.  It 
was  in  my  mother’s  school  that  I  learnt 
what  is  best,  wisest,  and  most  helpful  for  a 
Jewess  to  know  and  to  practice.  It  was  the 

school  of  the  home,  where  Sabbaths  and 

14 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


Holy  Days  were  hallowed,  where  the  door¬ 
post  proclaimed  ‘  I  am  a  Hebrew,’  where 
prayer  was  heard  daily,  and  where  knowl¬ 
edge  and  reverence  flourished  side  by  side, 
and  old  and  young  dwelt  in  kindness  and 
love  and  peace.  I  want  my  little  girl  never 
to  forget  her  mother’s  school.  I  cannot 
forget  mine.  I  owe  everything  to  it.” 

“  Why,  mother,  you  are  a  regular 
preacher,”  Grace  rejoined  after  a  pause, 
looking  at  Mrs.  Aguilar  with  a  smile.  “  I 
wish  we  had  English  sermons  in  our  syna¬ 
gogue,  don’t  you?  ” 

In  those  days,  and  for  some  years  there¬ 
after,  there  was  no  regular  English  preach¬ 
ing  in  the  synagogues  of  England.  An 
English  address  was  given  at  rare  intervals 
by  gifted  and  public-spirited  men,  but  regu¬ 
lar  preaching  in  the  vernacular,  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  country,  was  introduced  at  a 
later  date.  The  young  people  in  that  era 
were  in  grave  danger  of  losing  interest  in 

15 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


their  religion,  and  becoming  ignorant  of  its 
history  and  requirements.  There  were  no 
Sunday  Schools,  or  Young  Men’s  and  Young 
Women’s  Hebrew  Associations,  and  not 
very  many  English  books  on  Jewish  subjects, 
none  of  the  glorious  opportunities  boys  and 
girls  now  possess  of  becoming  intelligent 
and  enthusiastic  Israelites  as  they  grow  into 
manhood  and  womanhood.  Of  course,  the 
Jewish  population  of  England  was  very 
small,  compared  with  its  present  size  and 
importance;  but  the  younger  generation 
was  none  the  less  neglected. 

“  Dearest  Grace,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  replied, 
with  as  much  earnestness  as  if  she  were  talk¬ 
ing  to  an  older  person — for  her  daughter 
was  thoughtful  for  her  years,  and  the  train¬ 
ing  she  had  received  had  developed  her 
mind  without  robbing  it  of  the  gaiety  and 
hopefulness  of  youth — “  dearest  Grace, 
many  were  the  preachers  among  the  women 

of  Israel.  Where  can  you  find  a  more  elo- 

16 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


quent  preacher  than  Hannah,  whose  pious 
love  was  her  son  Samuel’s  best  preparation 
for  the  ministry?  Where  a  more  brilliant 
sermon  than  the  life  of  Esther,  who,  raised 
to  royal  honors,  never  forgot  her  Jewish 
origin,  and  bravely  championed  her  people, 
although  it  might  have  led  to  her  death? 
Where  a  more  wonderful  text  than  the 
mother  of  whom  the  rabbis  tell  us  in  the 
Talmud,  that  marvellous  work  about  which 
you  will  know  more  in  time?  She  used  to 
bring  her  little  son  in  his  cradle  close  to  the 
door  of  the  academy  where  the  sages 
studied,  and  there  she  would  sit  and  sew  for 
hours,  thinking  that  the  place,  the  surround¬ 
ings,  the  wise  words  of  teachers  in  Israel 
would  inspire  him  unconsciously  to  become 
a  guide  to  his  people  in  later  years.” 

“  And  did  he  become  a  rabbi,  mother?  ” 
Grace  asked,  deeply  interested. 

“  Yes,  indeed,  with  countless  others,  in¬ 
spired  and  encouraged  by  the  example  and 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


prayers  of  their  self-sacrificing  mothers, 
who  may  surely  be  called  preachers,  even 
if  they  had  no  other  pulpit  than  the  home. 
They  were  the  true,  unheralded  heroines  in 
Israel.  It  is  the  home,  remember,  Grace, 
that  is  the  real  altar  of  Judaism,  where 
mother  and  father  are  priestess  and  priest.” 

“  Mother,  do  you  know  what  I  should 
like  to  do  when  I  grow  older?  I’ll  tell  you. 
I  should  like — now,  do  not  laugh  at  me^ — 
I  should  like  to  write  about  the  women  of 
Israel,  so  that  the  whole  world  might  know 
what  they  were,  and  what  they  did.  What 
glorious  work  to  tell  of  their  character  and 
deeds !  When  I  grow  older — ” 

“  Come,  come,  little  girl,”  the  mother 
interrupted,  as  she  gazed  at  the  girl’s  glow¬ 
ing  countenance,  “  come,  come,  do  not 
worry  about  the  future.  Look  at  those 
beautiful  flowers  on  this  side  of  the  hedge ! 
Do  you  not  see  them?  I  was  reading  the 

other  day  about  a  curious  trait  of  flowers. 

18 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


It  would  almost  seem  that  they  had  minds.” 

“  The  idea,  mother,  of  flowers  having 
minds  I  ” 

“  It  may  appear  odd,  but  the  author  says 
that  flowers  have  understanding,  and  know 
when  people  care  for  them.  They  respond, 
.  just  like  children,  to  a  loving  touch  and  a 
caress.  And  flowers  can  express  their 
wants.  For  instance,  a  flower  whose  head 
is  drooping  is  calling  for  water.  In  differ¬ 
ent  ways  they  ask  for  light,  warmth,  sun¬ 
shine.  When  they  are  satisfied,  how  buoy¬ 
antly  they  lift  their  heads,  as  if  from  pure 
joy  of  being  flowers  in  the  glad  sunshine.” 

“  That  is  a  funny  idea,”  Grace  remarked, 
“  that  flowers  should  ask  for  anything. 
Why,  it  makes  one  think  that  flowerland  is 
fairyland  indeed.” 

“  There  is  another  thing  in  connection 
with  flowers,  my  daughter.  We  speak  of 
a  beautiful  rose  or  a  lovely  violet,  but  you 

can  best  realize  the  charm  of  flowers 

19 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


through  magnifying  glasses.  Remarkable 
beauty  is  disclosed,  and  wonders  never 
before  appreciated  come  to  light.  Petal 
and  leaf  appear  in  marvellous  splendor  and 
form.  The  world  of  flowers  is  a  most 
wonderful  study.  I  am  glad  you  are  fond 
of  botanizing,  Grace.  The  flower  world 
is  a  kind  of  sacred  scripture,  which  reveals 
the  goodness  and  greatness  of  our  Almighty 
Father.” 

“  Look,  mother!  ”  Grace  exclaimed  sud¬ 
denly,  glancing  across  the  fields.  “  There’s 
father  coming  for  us.  He  must  think  that 
we  are  lost.  Here  we  are  1  Here  we  are !  ” 
she  shouted,  waving  her  hands  excitedly. 
“  Here  we  are !  ” 

“  What  were  you  two  doing  all  these 
hours?  ”  he  asked,  drawing  near  and  kissing 
them.  “  Do  you  know  it  is  rather  late?  ” 

“  Doing?  ”  repeated  Grace  with  a  smil¬ 
ing  glance  at  her  mother.  “  Doing? 

Why,  we  were  merely  at  mother’s  school.” 

20 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 


As  she  spoke,  a  bird  darted  from  a  tall 
oak  tree,  singing  sweetly  in  its  upward 
flight. 

“  Yes,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  observed,  “  and 
now  school  is  over.  The  bird-bell  has 
sounded  for  recess.”  And  the  three  were 
soon  on  their  eager  way  homeward,  talking 
gaily,  Grace  leading  in  the  chat,  with  the 
flowers  for  her  father’s  wreath  in  her  hand. 
They  had  been  pleasant,  those  hours  at 
mother’s  school,  the  oldest,  the  happiest, 
and  the  best  school  in  all  the  world ! 


21 


II 

HOME  INFLUENCE 

It  was  a  happy  home,  that  of  the 
Aguilars.  It  was  not  a  pretentious  abode, 
the  small  frame  cottage  with  its  trelllsed 
porch  and  garden,  where  violets,  pansies, 
roses,  and  mignonette  grew  In  sweet  pro¬ 
fusion.  But  you  felt  when  you  sought  It 
and  crossed  Its  threshold  that  It  was  a  home 
fragrant  with  affection.  There  was  no 
elaborate  furniture,  no  expensive  ornaments 
and  statuary,  no  costly  paintings  and  tap¬ 
estry  work.  Nothing  could  have  been 
simpler  than  Grace’s  dwelling,  wherein 
were  practiced  the  virtues  of  thrift, 
contentment,  and  unfaltering  trust  In  the 
Almighty. 

The  home  was  doubly  precious,  as  from 
her  early  childhood  there  had  been  fre¬ 
quent  changes  of  residence  for  Grace,  owing 

22 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


to  her  constant  ill  health.  Again  and  again 
her  parents  had  sought  a  more  bracing 
climate  for  her,  now  by  the  sea  and  now 
among  the  hills.  The  father’s  constitution, 
too,  was  not  very  strong,  and  at  times  they 
were  obliged  to  live  elsewhere  for  his  sake. 
It  was  as  much  their  changes  of  residence 
as  their  daughter’s  delicate  health  that  com¬ 
pelled  her  parents  to  take  her  from  school 
and  teach  her  themselves. 

Father,  mother,  and  daughter  formed 
the  entire  family  at  this  time;  years  later 
two  sons  were  added  to  the  household. 
Their  immediate  ancestors  had  come  to 
England  in  the  seventeenth  century,  being 
descendants  of  Jews  that  had  been  expelled 
first  from  Spain  and  then  from  Portugal, 
and  had  settled  in  other  lands,  where  their 
condition  was  often  pitiable.  Many  were 
men  and  women  of  high  culture  and 
character,  who  made  a  career  for  them¬ 
selves  in  their  new  surroundings,  acquiring 

23 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


wealth  and  position.  Some  were  scholars 
of  much  learning,  who  taught  ardently  the 
olden  Law,  and  strove  to  train  the  new 
generation  in  obedience  to  its  commands. 

In  England  in  particular,  where,  in 
Oliver  Cromwell’s  reign,  the  Jews  were 
permitted  to  settle  again,  the  numbers  of 
our  Spanish  and  Portuguese  brethren  were 
limited.  Yet  they  formed  a  distinguished 
class  by  themselves,  proud  of  their  ancestry 
and  their  faith.  They  were,  indeed,  princes 
and  princesses  in  Israel,  and  their  family 
records  told  many  a  tale  of  glorious  mar¬ 
tyrdom.  Hence,  their  religion  was  very 
dear  to  them,  and  as  a  body  they  observed 
the  traditions  of  their  people  very  carefully. 
Their  synagogue  in  Bevis  Marks,  London, 
is  the  oldest  in  England,  and  dates  origi¬ 
nally  from  1702. 

The  Aguilars  were  worthy  representa¬ 
tives  of  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  Jews 

of  the  Middle  Ages.  Their  piety  was  sim- 

24 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


pie  and  unaffected.  It  was  a  tribute  of 
gratitude,  a  proof  of  loyalty.  It  sprang 
from  conviction,  not  custom.  You  have 
heard  of  Nelson’s  famous  words  to  his 
sailors,  “  England  expects  every  man  to  do 
his  duty.”  The  Aguilars  felt  that  Israel, 
too,  expected  every  Israelite  to  do  his  and 
her  duty.  In  loving  return  to  the  good  Cre¬ 
ator,  who  had  so  wonderfully  preserved  the 
Jew  and  spread  his  religion  from  land  to 
land.  It  Is  true,  they  lived  too  far  from 
the  City  to  attend  the  synagogue  regularly 
when  they  returned  from  their  wanderings; 
but  they  made  their  home  their  altar.  The 
Sabbath  and  the  festivals  were  faithfully 
observed;  no  day’s  religious  duties  were 
neglected.  And  their  devotion  was  not  a 
set  task,  a  formal  duty;  It  was  the  glad 
offering  of  their  grateful  hearts.  It  came 
as  free  and  unconscious  as  a  flower’s  blos¬ 
soming. 

With  all  their  fidelity  to  our  old  faith 

25 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  its  traditions,  the  Aguilars  had  no  tinge 
of  narrowness  or  bigotry.  Repeating  each 
day  the  inspiring  words  from  the  Psalms, 
“  Thou  openest  Thy  hand  and  satisfiest  the 
desire  of  every  living  thing,”  and  “  The 
Lord  is  near  to  all  who  call  upon  Him  in 
truth,”  they  had  only  esteem  for  their  neigh¬ 
bors  of  other  creeds.  Among  these  they 
numbered  many  close  friends  of  their  own 
social  standing.  Now  and  then  a  literary 
celebrity  would  visit  their  dwelling,  or  some 
acquaintances  they  had  made  on  their  jour¬ 
neys.  Occasionally  a^  kindly  clergyman 
would  be  welcomed.  As  a  result,  the  family 
atmosphere  was  genial,  and  as  Grace  was 
a  close  observer  from  early  childhood,  with 
a  mind  that  developed  rapidly,  she  was 
greatly  benefited  by  the  interchange  of 
thought,  which  widened  her  own  ideas.  In 
fact,  it  was  for  her  sake  that  her  parents 
sought  every  means  of  rendering  the  home 
a  centre  of  loving  and  helpful  influence. 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


“  Emanuel,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  said  one  day 
to  her  husband,  ‘‘  do  you  really  think  that 
Grace  will  ever  grow  strong?  ”  She  was 
then  about  six  years  of  age,  and  had  spent 
several  summers  by  the  sea  by  order  of  the 
physician. 

My  dear  Sarah,”  he  rejoined,  “  we  can 
only  do  our  best.  She  is  a  child  of  great 
promise.  We  must  look  after  her  body  as 
well  as  her  mind.  Surely  the  Almighty 
did  not  place  so  superior  a  spirit  in  so  deli¬ 
cate  a  frame  without  some  purpose.  I  feel 
that  she  will  live  to  fulfil  the  purpose,  and 
I  shall  spare  no  effort  to  enable  her  to  gain 
health  and  strength.” 

“  And  I,  too,  dear  husband,”  Mrs. 
Aguilar  added;  “I  shall  watch  over  her 
with  ceaseless  care.  Do  you  know  what 
first  aroused  me  to  the  beauty  and  value  of 
the  gift  God  gave  us  in  our  daughter?  ” 

“  No,  my  dear.  What  was  it?” 

“  Do  you  not  recall  when  she  was  ill  in 

27 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


her  second  year,  and  her  birthday  came, 
that  she  asked  me  to  give  her  a  book?  She 
wished  to  have  no  other  present.  That 
showed  at  once  the  noble  quality  of  her 
mind.” 

“  Yes,  indeed,  Sarah;  and  do  you  not 
recall  the  summer  at  Hastings — she  was 
then  four — when  she  collected  and  arranged 
shells?  How  patiently  she  set  to  w^ork, 
how  cleverly  she  put  them  together,  each 
with  a  tiny  label?  It  amused  me  to  watch 
her  as  she  merrily  ran  up  and  down  the 
sands,  which  were  rich  in  beautiful  shells. 
What  color  was  on  her  cheeks,  and  how 
her  eyes  shone  I  ” 

“  And  then,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  continued, 
“  how  she  treasured  her  little  books !  Why, 
one  morning  she  wanted  me  to  teach  her 
how  to  make  linen  covers  for  them,  to  pre¬ 
serve  them  from  dust  and  injury.  And  she 
really  made  several  covers  very  deftly  after 
I  had  shown  her.” 


28 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


There  was  a  pause  for  a  moment,  and 
then  Mrs.  Aguilar  told  her  husband  how 
she  succeeded  once  in  forcing  a  doll  on 
Grace,  and  the  following  afternoon  she 
found  her  trying  to  teach  the  doll  how  to 
read.  It  was  not  long  before  she  dis¬ 
covered  the  utter  hopelessness  of  the  task. 
Occasionally  she  would  play  school  with 
the  few  dolls  that  came  to  her,  but  she 
never  relished  the  game.  She  would  turn 
to  her  books  again  and  again,  and  at  night 
keep  one  under  her  pillow. 

Sarah,”  her  husband  exclaimed  smil¬ 
ingly,  “  when  Grace  began  her  diary,  she 
was  not  five  years  old,  and  she  has  never 
neglected  it  since.  I  really  think  she  will 
become  an  author.” 

“  Yes,  I  also  feel  that  she  will  devote  her 
life  to  authorship,  but  it  will  be  for  a  high 
and  lofty  purpose.” 

“  And  that  purpose,  Sarah  dear?  ” 

“  To  champion  the  cause  of  Israel  and 

29 


\ 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


promote  a  kindly  and  noble  humanity.” 
And  Mrs.  Aguilar’s  face  fairly  glowed  with 
exultation  as  she  added,  “  It  is  one  of  our 
old  traditional  sayings,  that  every  mother 
in  Israel  should  reflect  that  her  son  might 
become  a  Messiah,  a  deliverer  of  his  peo¬ 
ple.  May  Grace  be  such  a  deliverer  to 

\ 

champion  Israel’s  truth  and  rescue  the 
nations  from  prejudice  and  error!  ” 

“  How  quickly  Grace  began  to  read,” 
Mr.  Aguilar  said  after  a  brief  silence.  “  I 
am  sure  she  was  never  taught,  was  she?  ” 
“  No,  no,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  rejoined.  “  It 
was  with  her  as  with  the  birds,  as  a  German 
poet  puts  it.  They  sing  because  they  have 
to  sing,  and  Gracie  read  because  she  had  to 
read.  It  was  wholly  a  work  of  her  own. 
She  was  always  a  close  observer,  and 
learned  something  with  every  glance  and 
every  breath.” 

“  I  am  glad  of  one  thing,  Sarah — that 

her  natural  gaiety  has  not  been  impaired. 

30 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


She  remains  a  happy  child,  and  is  fond  of 
fun,  despite  her  serious  moods  and  her  love 
of  study.  We  must  guard  against  making 
her  old  for  her  years  and  setting  tasks  too 
heavy  for  her  to  carry  out.  Perhaps  our 
household  ways  are  too  formal  and  severe 
for  her.  If  so,  we  must  be  less  exacting 
and  allow  her  more  freedom.” 

“  Trust  me,  my  dear  Emanuel.  We  are 
not  drawing  the  lines  too  taut.  So  long 
as  Grace  knows  the  strength  of  our  affec¬ 
tion  for  her,  she  has  firm  confidence  in  our 
judgment  as  to  her  training,  and  our  house¬ 
hold  ways  and  rules  never  seem  to  be  bur¬ 
densome.  Regularity,  method,  order,  are 
not  tyrants  in  the  home,  but  daily  helpers. 
Systematic  rules  really  promote  good  habits 
— attention,  punctuality,  meekness,  thor¬ 
oughness,  and  the  rest.  Otherwise  all  is 
confusion,  and  little  is  accomplished  with¬ 
out  friction  of  some  kind.” 

“You  are  right,  dear  wife;  but  it  may 

31 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


be  that  we  dwell  too  much  on  our  religion. 
Might  it  not  be  better  if  we  waited  a  few 
years  before  talking  to  her  about  such  mat¬ 
ters?  ” 

“  I  do  not  think  we  speak  too  much  on 
the  subject,  husband.  Of  course,  I  admit 
that  it  can  be  overdone,  and  then  it  really 
leads  to  mischief.  If  we  were  harsh,  exact¬ 
ing,  tyrannical  in  our  demands,  and  if  we 
asked  our  daughter  to  do  what  we  our¬ 
selves  do  not  practice  and  believe  in,  then 
your  misgivings  would  be  justified.  But 
our  home  has  a  natural  atmosphere,  with 
love  and  faith  and  hope  and  kindness  its 
foundation. 

“  As  to  your  idea  of  waiting  a  few 
years,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  continued  earnestly, 
“  that  would  be  a  fatal  mistake,  unless  we 
could  be  certain  that  in  the  meantime  she 
w^ould  be  exposed  to  no  influence  that  might 
harm  her,  or  mould  her  views  in  a  wrong 
direction.  It  was  a  wise  man  who  said, 


HOME  INFLUENCE 


Let  me  write  the  people’s  songs,  I  don’t 
care  who  makes  their  laws.  And  so  one 
can  say,  Let  me  mould  the  child’s  thoughts, 
impress  the  child’s  feelings,  direct  the 
child’s  ways;  then  it  is  of  less  account  who 
seeks  to  teach  them  when  they  grow  to 
manhood  or  womanhood.  Their  founda¬ 
tions  then  will  be  fixed  and  firm.  If  parents 
were  wiser,  they  would  regard  childhood 
as  the  vital  period  in  education,  and  seek 
the  best  methods  of  training  the  child. 
And  the  great  call  to  Israel  is,  ‘  Thou  shalt 
teach  thy  children,’  that  is,  when  they  are 
children.  That  one  emphatic  command¬ 
ment  has  preserved  Israel  for  thousands  of 
years.  Let  us  teach  Grace,  then,  to  the 
best  of  our  ability,  by  example  as  well  as 
precept,  and  we  need  have  no  fear  for  her 
future.  All  will  be  well.” 

“  My  dear  Sarah,  you  could  not  have 
spoken  more  wisely,”  her  husband  rejoined, 
and  then  the  conversation  turned  to  other 
matters. 

^  83 


Ill 

AN  ADVENTURE 


It  was  a  few  days  later,  the  wreath  of 
flowers  Grace  had  woven  for  her  father 
had  not  yet  wholly  withered.  The  morning 
was  sunny,  the  birds  were  singing,  the  sky 
was  without  a  cloud. 

“  Grace,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  exclaimed, 
“  what  a  fine  day  for  a  walk !  It  is  a  pity 
to  stay  indoors  in  such  glorious  weather. 
Come,  child,  run  out  in  the  sunshine.  It 
will  do  you  good.” 

“  Now,  mother,”  she  responded,  “  I  just 
want  to  tidy  up  the  room  a  little,  and  finish 
my  diary  for  the  week,  and  then  practice 
my  piano  exercises,  and  then — ” 

“  O  Mrs.  Aguilar,”  cried  a  young  girl 
as  she  entered  the  open  door,  “  will  you  not 
let  Gracie  come  with  us  this  morning? 
Maud,  Sylvia,  and  I  are  off  to  the  woods, 

and  we  shall  take  our  lunch  with  us,  and  a 

34 


AN  ADVENTURE 


little  sewing  to  pass  away  the  time.  Do  let 
her  come,  do !  ”  And  Agnes  Cameron 
kissed  Mrs.  Aguilar  impulsively. 

“  Why,  that  would  be  the  very  thing  for 
her,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  replied.  “  Now, 
Agnes,  just  wait  a  minute,  until  I  get  ready 
a  little  lunch  for  Grace,  and  then  you  both 
can  go.” 

“  I’ll  help  you  tidy  up,”  Agnes  ex¬ 
claimed,  and  she  and  Grace  soon  had 
things  swept  and  dusted,  while  they 
laughed  and  romped  and  talked  in  a  joyous 
mood.  It  was  Grace’s  task  to  keep  the  par¬ 
lor  in  order  and  have  the  ornaments  and 
furniture  properly  dusted — not  a  very  diffi¬ 
cult  duty,  but  one  that  she  had  to  attend  to 
promptly  and  thoroughly  every  day.  With 
Agnes’s  help,  it  was  quickly  accomplished, 
and  the  girls  were  walking  arm  in  arm  up 
and  down  in  front  of  the  porch,  their 
labor  over  for  the  morning. 

“  Here,  my  daughter,”  Mrs.  Aguilar 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


said,  giving  her  a  neat  little  package, 
“  here  is  your  luncheon.” 

“  O  you  blessed  mother,”  cried  the  child, 
as  she  opened  it  carefully.  “  Why,  I  never 
can  eat  all  of  it — boiled  eggs,  apples,  cake, 
a  buttered  roll  I  Mother,  I  shall  never  be 
hungry  enough  to  eat  such  a  meal.” 

“  Keep  it,  Grace.  You  don’t  know  how 
hungry  the  woods  will  make  us.  It  will  be 
an  all-morning-and-afternoon  picnic.  Come 
along.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Aguilar.  I’ll  take 
good  care  of  your  little  lambkin.”  And 
after  repeated  farewells  and  waving  of 
handkerchiefs,  the  two  ran  along  the  road, 
and  were  soon  lost  to  view.  In  a  few 
moments  Mrs.  Aguilar  heard  merry  shouts 
in  the  distance,  with  peals  of  girlish  laugh¬ 
ter.  The  rest  of  the  party  had  met  Agnes 
and  Grace,  and  the  important  journey  to 
the  woods  had  begun  in  earnest. 

And  that  was  a  journey!  Talk  about 

old-time  voyages  of  discovery,  trips  to  the 

36 


AN  ADVENTURE 


land  of  Cathay,  Baron  Munchausen’s  flight 
across  the  Polar  Sea  on  an  eagle,  the 
exploits  of  Cortes,  Pizarro,  Drake,  Colum¬ 
bus,  La  Salle,  and  others  of  their  daring  I 
Why,  nothing  could  be  compared  with  that 
walk  and  run  and  saunter  to  the  woods. 
What  hairbreadth  escapes  when  they  lost 
the  trail  and  plunged  into  darkness !  What 
heroism  as  they  climbed  tree  stumps  and 
crashed  through  broken  branches  lying  like 
helpless  giants  stretched  out  in  the  path  I 
What  endurance  when  now  and  then  a 
fly  or  some  tiny  insect  alighted  on  their 
arms  or  forehead  and  stung  them  unmer¬ 
cifully!  How  bravely  they  controlled 
their  terror  when  they  saw,  or  thought  they 
saw,  a  mouse  about  fifty  feet  distant! 
How  they  almost  screamed  when,  as  they 
tramped  along  under  the  overhanging 
boughs,  they  noticed  a  panther,  fierce¬ 
eyed,  right  in  front  of  them,  which  happily 

ran  up  a  tree  at  a  rapid  rate  and  proved  to 

37 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


be  only  a  frisky  squirrel!  How  they  sang 
and  shouted  and  even  whistled  and,  of 
course,  did  lots  of  talking,  as  four  bright, 
healthy  girls  of  their  age  might  be  expected 
to  do,  particularly  on  such  a  morning  and 
in  the  woods  of  Old  England. 

So  an  hour  or  two  passed,  and  it  was 
midday  when  suddenly  they  came  to  a  little 
clearing  encircled  by  fragrant  pine.  “  Let’s 
lunch  here,  girls,”  Maud  exclaimed.  “  I 
am  getting  hungry.” 

“  It  is  just  the  spot,”  said  Sylvia. 

“  All  right,”  Agnes  added.  “  Let’s 
make  ourselves  comfortable.” 

“  And  I’ll  set  the  table,”  and  Grace  was 
soon  at  work  spreading  a  cloth  on  the 
ground,  around  which  the  four  girls  sat. 
Then,  without  further  preparation,  the 
meal  began.  Their  appetites  were  raven¬ 
ous,  and  not  a  crumb  was  left  behind. 

It  was  a  bright  group  of  girls,  who  lived 

near  one  another.  Grace  was  the  youngest, 

38 


AN  ADVENTURE 


but  In  some  respects  the  most  thoughtful. 
Maud  was  a  madcap  of. thirteen,  quick  and 
Impulsive,  ready  for  any  frolic  when  In  the 
mood.  Yet  she  was  so  frank  and  cordial 
that  her  outburst  was  soon  forgotten  and 
forgiven.  Sylvia  was  also  thirteen,  some¬ 
what  timid  In  speech  and  manner,  but  kind- 
hearted  and  helpful.  Agnes  was  fourteen, 
and  the  leader  In  every  pastime  or  gaiety. 
She  had  had  exceptional  advantages,  her 
uncle  and  aunt  being  literary  celebrities, 
who  dearly  loved  their  clever  niece.  She 
was  tall  and  strong,  and  by  some  mysterious 
law  was  doubly  attracted  to  Grace,  who 
was  of  slender  build  and  delicate  frame. 

“And  now  what  shall  we  do?”  asked 
Sylvia.  “  If  we  only  had  more  cold  tea !  ” 
“  Let  us  rest  against  that  huge  tree  over 
there,”  suggested  Maud. 

“  Good,  girls,”  Agnes  exclaimed,  “  and 
then  we  can  talk  until  It  Is  time  to  return 
home.” 

39 


V 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“  What  shall  we  talk  about?  ”  Grace 
inquired. 

“  Well,  let  us  tell  of  the  most  wonderful 
thing  we  have  heard,  and  I’ll  start,  girls,” 
said  Agnes,  in  her  most  impressive  manner, 
raising  one  finger  to  her  forehead,  and 
pointing  it  at  her  audience.  “  The  most 
wonderful — ” 

“  — girl  in  the  world,”  Maud  inter¬ 
rupted,  “  is  Agnes.” 

“  It  isn’t  fair  to  interrupt.  As  I  was 
going  to  say,  the  most  wonderful  thing  in 
the  world  is  the  Chinese  Wall.  It  is  over 
twelve  hundred  miles  in  length  and  twenty 
feet  in  height.  Just  think  of  that.” 

“  That  is  nothing,”  said  Maud,  after  a 
pause.  “  I  think  the  most  wonderful  thing 
in  the  world  is  the  Old  Desert  in  Africa, 
three  thousand  miles  in  length,  where  the 
rain  falls  at  intervals  of  five,  ten,  and 
twenty  years.  I  fancy  that  umbrellas  are 
rare  in  that  country.  Don’t  you  agree  with 
me,  girls?  ” 


40 


AN  ADVENTURE 


There  was  a  unanimous  shout  of  agree¬ 
ment,  and  then  it  was  Sylvia’s  turn. 

‘‘  Well,  I  think—  I  think—  I  think—” 

“  Listen,  girls,  Sylvia  thinks,”  and  Maud 
began  to  laugh. 

“  I  think,”  Sylvia  continued,  undisturbed 
by  Maud’s  raillery,  “  I  think  that — .  Oh, 
I  don’t  know,  but  I  can  tell  you  some  good 
jokes.  Will  that  do?” 

“  Yes,  yes,  Sylvia,”  Agnes  said.  “  Go 
on,  child.” 

“  Well,  girls  talk  least  in  February,  my 
brother  says,  because  it  is  the  shortest 
month.  And  we  all  go  to  bed,  because, 
because  the  bed  does  not  come  to  us. 
And  our  eyes  are  just  like  slaves — they  are 
always  under  lashes.  There !  That  is  all  I 
know.” 

The  girls  laughed  heartily  at  Sylvia’s 
jokes,  and  then  Grace  began  her  wonder 
story. 

“  The  most  wonderful  thing  I  ever 

41 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


heard  is  the  account  of  a  flower  in  the  East, 
called  the  rose  of  Jericho,  which  my 
father  read  to  me  last  night.  This  plant, 
when  fully  developed,  contracts  its  branches 
so  as  to  form  a  ball.  When  exposed  to  the 
wind,  it  is  blown  towards  the  sea,  and  it 
is  gathered  and  exported  to  Europe.” 

“  What  is  wonderful  about  that?  ” 
Agnes  asked  with  a  rather  superior  air. 

“  Just  wait,  Agnes,  and  I’ll  tell  you 
where  the  wonder  comes  in.  When  you 
plunge  the  plant,  apparently  dead  and  all 
dried  up,  into  water,  the  buds  swell  with 
new  life,  the  calyx  leaves  open,  the  petals 
unfold,  the  flower  stalk  grows,  and  full¬ 
blown  flowers  appear.  But  if  you  remove 
it  from  the  water,  it  dies.  The  plant  is 
called  Anastatica,  or  resurrection  plant.” 

“  O  Grade,”  Agnes  exclaimed,  kissing 

her,  “  you  do  tell  a  story  so  prettily.  I 

must  take  you  to  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Hall.  I 

have  often  told  her  about  you.  She  writes 

the  loveliest  stories  and — ” 

42 


AN  ADVENTURE 


“Who’s  there?”  Maud  shouted,  rising 
to  her  feet,  as  some  one  was  seen  moving 
through  the  opposite  trees.  The  girls 
sprang  up  in  alarm. 

A  poor  woman,  carrying  a  baby,  slowly 
came  out  of  the  thicket,  and  stopped  at  the 
clearing  when  she  saw  the  group  of  girls 
standing  close  together.  She  was  evidently 
a  newcomer,  some  wanderer  from  a  foreign 
land.  She  was  dark-eyed,  and  her  face  was 
of  olive  color.  Her  dress  was  torn,  her 
shoes  broken,  but  the  baby  held  in  her  arms 
was  as  happy  and  smiling  as  if  it  were  heir 
to  a  kingdom. 

The  woman  stood,  half  ashamed,  half 
afraid  of  the  silence  of  the  girls,  which  she 
thought  came  from  hostility  to  her. 

Agnes  was  the  first  to  recover  from  the 
-fright. 

“  My  good  woman,”  she  addressed  her, 

advancing  toward  her,  as  Maud  afterward 

said,  like  Queen  Boadicea  towards  the 

Roman  general,  “  what  do  you  want?  ” 

43 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


The  woman  was  silent,  but  the  baby 
gurgled  and  smiled  at  its  own  sweet  will. 

“  Come  away,  girls,”  Sylvia  exclaimed. 
“  It  is  a  witch,  a  Jewess;  she  will  harm  us 
if  we  stay  any  longer.” 

“  If  she  is  a  Jewess,”  and  Grace  rushed 
impetuously  forward,  “  she  is  my  sister, 
one  of  my  people,  and  I  will  help  her.” 

“  O  Grade,”  Sylvia  cried,  “  I  meant  no 
harm.  Do  forgive  me,  won’t  you?  ” 

The  woman  looked  on,  much  interested 
in  the  girls’  agitation,  and  the  baby  laughed 
louder  than  ever. 

“  Are  you  a  Jewess,  a  woman  of 
Israel?  ”  Grace  asked  in  her  softest  tones, 
as  if  she  were  addressing  a  duchess  of  the 
land.  “  Tell  me,  please,  for  I  am  a  Jewess, 
too.” 

For  a  moment  the  woman  stared  at  the 
child,  as  if  she  did  not  fully  understand  her. 
Then  came  a  gleam  of  intelligence  on  her 
face. 


44 


AN  ADVENTURE 


‘‘  No,  no ;  no  Jewess.  Me  gypsy  woman. 
Come,  pretty  girl.  Give  me  hand,  and  I 
will  tell  fortune,”  and  she  smiled  upon 
Grace  in  a  way  intended  to  be  very  win¬ 
ning,  but  which  proved  the  reverse,  for 
Grace  and  the  rest  at  once  burst  out  laugh¬ 
ing. 

“  Thank  you  very  much,”  Grace  ex¬ 
claimed,  ‘‘  we  do  not  wish  to  have  our  for¬ 
tunes  told.  Have  you  lost  your  way?  ” 

“  Shall  we  summon  our  chariot  for  the 
fair  dame?”  Maud  asked;  and  again  the 
girls  laughed,  the  baby  joining  in  the  mirth. 

The  woman  felt  by  this  time  that  there 
was  no  chance  of  earning  sixpences,  and 
she  began  to  move  backward  into  the 
woods,  but  she  halted  as  Agnes  stepped  up 
and  said,  “  If  you  let  us  all  kiss  your  baby, 
we  shall  give  you  sixpence.”  As  she  offered 
no  opposition,  the  four  girls  in  their  eager¬ 
ness  to  kiss  it  almost  crushed  the  helpless 
baby  to  death.  And  then  mother  and  baby 

slowly  passed  out  of  sight. 

45 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


‘‘  Grace,  you  must  forgive  me,”  Sylvia 
implored  as  all  returned  to  their  resting- 
place  under  the  tree.  “  It  was  rude  and 
unpardonable  to  speak  as  I  did.” 

“  It  was  rude,  Sylvia,”  Grace  rejoined, 
“  but  not  unpardonable,”  kissing  her. 
‘‘  Only  for  the  future  please  do  not  call 
Jewesses  witches.  What  an  ignorant  world ! 
Why,  ages  and  ages  ago  Moses  forbade  my 
ancestors  to  consult  fortune-tellers  or  en¬ 
courage  witchcraft.  But,  girls,  I  think  it  is 
getting  late.  Let’s  return  home.” 

The  girls  were  of  the  same  mind,  and 
soon  they  were  merrily  romping  through 
the  woods  In  the  afternoon  sunshine. 

What  a  delightful  day,”  Agnes  ex¬ 
claimed  as  they  reached  the  road  leading 
to  the  Aguilar  home. 

“  And  what  a  delightful  baby,”  Maud 
added,  as  both  kissed  Grace  on  parting, 
while  Sylvia  shyly  pressed  her  hand. 


46 


IV 

A  SABBATH  CHAT 

A  favorite  hour  with  Grace  was  Satur¬ 
day  morning,  after  the  Sabbath  prayers 
had  been  said,  when  her  parents  talked  or, 
better,  chatted  with  her.  She  would  sit  on 
the  sofa  between  them,  and  wait  eagerly 
for  the  conversation  to  begin.  And  she 
had  not  long  to  wait,  for  her  parents  were 
as  eager  to  impart  to  her  what  they  thought 
she  ought  to  know.  Sometimes  they  would 
speak  of  different  countries,  sometimes  of 
famous  cities,  often  of  celebrated  writers, 
and  now  and  then  they  would  explain  Jew¬ 
ish  customs  and  ceremonies.  In  the  course 
of  a  year  or  two  a  large  amount  of  knowl¬ 
edge  was  thus  gained,  without  formal  les¬ 
son  or  text-book;  and  Grace  never  wearied 
of  these  Sabbath  chats.  In  this  way  she 

absorbed,  she  drank  in,  a  precious  store  of 

47 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Information,  which  was  to  guide  and 
strengthen  her  mind  In  maturer  years. 

It  is  a  grave  mistake  to  entrust  the  edu¬ 
cation  of  the  young  to  an  Inferior  teacher. 
They  require  the  best  and  ablest,  more  even 
than  the  riper  and  older  student.  Not  only 
Is  their  progress  checked  by  placing  them  in 
the  hands  of  a  poorly  equipped  Instructor, 
but  they  are  taught  wrong  methods  and 
ideas,  which  It  takes  years  to  correct  and 
dislodge.  If,  indeed.  It  Is  at  all  possible. 
The  child  demands  the  best  that  can  be 
given  In  every  field. 

It  was  Grace’s  great  privilege  to  have  the 
best  teachers,  her  father  and  mother,  both 
refined  and  intelligent.  They  gave  her 
freely  not  only  of  their  warmth  of  affection, 
but  of  their  wealth  of  knowledge.  iThey 
were  widely  read,  of  broad  culture  and 
ripened  experience.  They  had  travelled 
and  seen  much.  They  were  open-minded, 
as  glad  to  welcome  a  new  idea  as  to  greet  a 
new  friend. 


48 


A  SABBATH  CHAT 


“  Now,  what  shall  I  tell  you  this  morn¬ 
ing,  my  daughter?”  Mr.  Aguilar  asked, 
patting  Grace  softly  on  the  cheek. 

“  I  should  like  to  hear  more  about  the 
cities  of  Spain.  You  told  me  last  week  about 
the  Golden  Tower  of  Seville,  which  the 
kings  of  Castile  gave  to  wealthy  Jews  as  a 
residence.  Do  you  not  remember,  father 
dear?  ” 

“  Perfectly,  my  daughter.  So  now  we 
shall  turn  to  Toledo,  long  ago  the  capital 
of  Castile  and  one  of  the  oldest  cities  of 
Europe  that  survive.  It  Is  a  city  built  on  a 
rock,  or  rather  on  a  number  of  hills,  and 
although  It  has  suffered  the  ravages  of  fire 
and  flood,  of  war  and  pillage.  It  Is  a  very 
Interesting  place  to-day,  and  Is  visited  by 
many  tourists  from  all  over  the  world.” 

“  Perhaps  we  may  travel  there,”  Grace 
suggested  smilingly. 

“  I  hardly  think,  my  daughter,  we 
should  like  to  journey  so  far  as  Spain,” 

49 


4 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Mrs.  Aguilar  replied.  “  But  let  us  not 
interrupt  your  father.” 

“  If  we  were  to  go  to  Toledo  to-day,  wc 
should  first  visit  its  two  famous  synagogues. 
One  was  built  about  the  middle  of  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century,  the  other,  about  a  century 
later.  The  first  became  a  church  in  1405, 
and  Its  name  was  changed  to  Santa  Maria 
la  Blanca.  Within  it  is  a  fine  example  of 
later  Saracenic  architecture.  The  building 
is  eighty-one  feet  long  by  sixty-three  wide. 
The  nave  and  aisles  are  separated  from 
each  other  by  four  rows  of  octagonal  col¬ 
umns,  from  which  spring  horseshoe  arches. 
The  ornamentation  and  design  are  varied. 
The  roof  is  of  fragrant  pinewood.” 

“  What  happened  to  the  building  after  It 
became  a  church?  ”  Grace  Inquired. 

“  The  Catholics  made  slight  additions. 
Including  three  altars.  About  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  used  as  a 
kind  of  asylum,  and  later  turned  Into  bar- 

50 


A  SABBATH  CHAT 


racks  for  soldiers.  I  believe  it  is  now 
closed.” 

“  Do  you  think  it  will  ever  be  restored 
as  a  synagogue,  Emanuel?”  was  Mrs. 
Aguilar’s  inquiry. 

“  I  cannot  tell.  All  depends  upon  the 
character  of  the  Spanish  Government  and 
people.  I  do  not  think  Jews  are  allowed 
to  enter  the  kingdom.”  * 

“  And  the  other  synagogue,  father?  ” 

“  I  think  it  was  erected  in  1357  by  a  very 
eminent  man,  Samuel  Ha-Levi,  treasurer 
of  Don  Pedro  I.  The  architect  was  an 
Israelite,  too.  It  is  called  El  Transito, 
and  in  style  is  Moorish,  of  a  later  period. 
It  is  seventy-six  feet  in  length  and  thirty-one 
feet  in  width,  and  very  beautifully  decor¬ 
ated,  especially  the  arches,  with  exquisite 

*  Had  the  Aguilars  lived  to  the  close  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  they  would  have  known  that  both  synagogues 
were  restored  by  the  Government,  and  that  Jews  were 
freely  admitted  to  Spain,  which  was  to  become  a 
republic. 


51 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


lattice-work,  and  there  is  a  fine  cedar  roof. 
On  the  western  wall  can  be  read  Hebrew 
inscriptions,  in  which  Samuel  Ha-Levi  is 
described  as  ‘  a  man  of  peace,  powerful 
among  all  the  people,  and  a  great  builder,’ 
while  of  King  Don  Pedro  it  is  written, 
‘  May  God  be  with  him  and  all  his  house, 
and  every  man  be  humbled  before  him.’ 
Within  a  year  after  the  synagogue  was  built 
the  treasurer  was  accused  of  dishonesty  by 
his  enemies,  forced  to  leave  Toledo,  seized 
at  Seville,  and  by  order  of  Pedro  put  to 
death.  His  vast  fortune  and  that  of  his 
relatives  became  forfeit  to  the  king.” 

“  What  a  sudden  change,”  Grace  ex¬ 
claimed  with  a  shudder. 

“Oh,  that  is  common  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  Kings  have  short  memories,”  Mrs. 
Aguilar  observed. 

“  There  must  have  been  a  large  Jewish 
community  there,  was  there  not,  father?  ” 
Grace  asked. 


52 


A  SABBATH  CHAT 


“  Large,  wealthy,  and  famous  m  Its 
day,”  Mr.  Aguilar  replied.  “  There  was 
born  our  peerless  writer,  Judah  HallevI, 
and  the  eminent  commentator  Abraham 
Ibn  Ezra;  there  flourished  the  philosopher 
Abraham  Ibn  Daud  and  the  poet  AlcharlsI, 
and  a  host  of  scholars  during  many  gener¬ 
ations.  But  all  these  passed  away,  and  the 
synagogue,  after  1492,  was  handed  over  to 
an  order  of  monks,  who  dedicated  It  to  St. 
Benedict.  In  the  history  of  these  two  syna¬ 
gogues  what  joy  and  sorrow  are  mingled! 
But  I  fear  I  am  wearying  you.” 

“The  Idea,  father!  Do  tell  me  more 
about  Toledo.  What  else  could  we  see  if 
we  went  there  to-day?  ” 

“  You  could  see  the  house  In  which  lived 
Samuel  Ha-Levi,  no  longer  a  palace.  If  ever 
It  was,  though  none  the  less  an  Imposing 
structure.  In  the  cellar  was  found  much 
treasure,  which  was  seized  by  King  Pedro. 
Samuel’s  enemies  said  It  had  been  unlaw- 

53 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


fully  obtained,  a  charge  not  proved  abso¬ 
lutely.  But  listen  now  while  I  tell  you 
about  a  church.”  Grace  and  her  mother 
were  all  attention. 

“  Not  very  far  from  the  old  house  of  the 
luckless  treasurer  of  Castile  Is  a  beautiful 
church.  Let  us  enter  and  examine  the  pub 
pit,  shaped  like  an  hour-glass.  One  Sunday 
— It  was  In  1391 — a  gentle  preacher  spoke 
to  the  people  from  the  holy  place.  His 
name  was  Vincent  Ferrer.  And  he  spoke 
so  forcibly  that  In  a  day  or  two  thousands 
of  Jews,  men,  women,  and  children,  were 
put  to  death,  and  the  glory  of  Toledo 
Israel  received  a  crushing  blow.  When  he 
returned,  twenty  years  later,  there  were  but 
few  Israelites  left  to  arouse  his  rage.  How¬ 
ever,  he  had  one  of  the  synagogues  changed 
Into  a  church,  the  Santa  Marla  la  Blanca, 
as  I  mentioned  a  few  minutes  ago.  And 
that  pulpit  can  be  seen  still.”  Mr.  Aguilar 

stopped  for  a  moment,  then  continued : 

54 


A  SABBATH  CHAT 


“  But  there  is  more  to  be  seen  in  Toledo. 
It  is  only  a  short  walk  from  the  church  to  a 
plain  building  that  bears  on  Its  front  the 
inscription  in  Spanish,  ‘  The  Brotherhood.’ 
The  door  is  an  ordinary  door,  but  if  it  had 
the  power  of  speech,  what  could  it  not  tell 
us!  For  through  that  door  hundreds  of 
our  brethren  went  to  their  doom.  It  is  the 
house  of  the  Inquisition,  which  turned  Spain 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century 
into  a  cemetery  of  the  helpless  and  the  inno¬ 
cent  It  tortured.  It  seems  almost  Incredible 
that  human  beings  should  act  with  such 
fiendish  cruelty  and  In  the  name  of  rell- 
gion. 

“  When  Madam  Roland  was  led  to 
death  In  the  Reign  of  Terror  In  France,” 
Mrs.  Aguilar  remarked,  “  her  last  words 
were,  ‘  O  liberty,  liberty,  what  crimes  are 
committed  In  thy  name  1  ’  And  one  might 
similarly  exclaim,  ‘  O  religion,  religion, 

what  crimes  are  committed  In  thy  name  I 

55 


i  1} 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


‘‘  One  story  has  come  down  to  us  from 
that  period,”  Mr.  Aguilar  continued,  “  of 
a  young  Jewess,  a  faithful  daughter,  who 
was  put  to  death  for  a  singular  crime.  In 
that  period  the  Jews  were  not  allowed  to 
celebrate  the  Sabbath  or  the  Passover,  to 
hold  religious  services,  or  even  say  Hebrew 
prayers.  One  day  this  girl’s  mother  became 
gravely  Ill,  and  she  thought  the  hour  of 
death  was  near.  She  had  her  daughter  sum¬ 
moned,  and  begged  her  to  repeat  the 
Shemang.  And  as  the  mother  passed  away, 
the  girl  uttered  the  Hebrew  words,  She¬ 
mang  YIsrael,  ‘  Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord 
Our  God,  the  Lord  Is  One,’  Israel’s  watch¬ 
word  through  the  ages.  For  this  fearful 
crime  the  daughter  was  hurried  to  the  hall 
of  the  Inquisition,  and  there  put  to  death 
under  the  sharpest  torture.” 

“  O  father,  I  am  so  glad  that  no  one  pre¬ 
vents  my  studying  Hebrew  or  reading  my 
Hebrew  prayers,”  said  Grace. 

56 


A  SABBATH  CHAT 


“  You  should  be  more  than  glad,  my 
child,”  her  mother  exclaimed.  “  You 
should  be  grateful  for  the  privilege.  To 
think  that  to-day,  after  so  many  centuries 
of  change  and  destruction,  you  can  read 
and  speak  the  words  of  Psalmist  and 
Prophet.  I  wish  more  of  our  boys  and 
girls  appreciated  this  privilege.  Of  what 
use  is  the  Torah  to  us,  if  we  are  unable  to 
read  it,  of  what  avail  the  poetry  and  phil¬ 
osophy  of  Holy  Writ,  if  we  cannot  under¬ 
stand  the  language  in  which  it  has  been 
preserved  for  all  time?  Now,  I  do  not 
say  that  boys  and  girls  should  know  it  as 
thoroughly  as  if  they  were  college  pro¬ 
fessors,  but  they  ought  to  have  some  knowl¬ 
edge,  together  with  love  and  enthusiasm  for 
their  heritage.  They  are  none  the  less 
English  boys  and  girls,  proud  of  Old  Eng¬ 
land  and  its  spirit  of  freedom,  which  is 
taught  as  our  English  inheritance.” 

“  Perhaps,  Grace,”  Mr.  Aguilar  said, 

67 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


rising  from  the  sofa,  “  we  have  had  a 
rather  serious  chat  for  a  Sabbath  morning. 
It  is  a  wonderful  history,  the  story  of  the 
Jews  of  Spain.  And  it  is  a  story  which  we 
Jews  to-day  should  never  forget,  although 
we  live  in  peace  and  contentment.  Now, 
Grace,  please  see  if  you  can  help  your 
mother  get  dinner  ready.  You  ought  to  be 
hungry  after  listening  to  such  a  long 
recital.” 

“  Yes,  I  am,  indeed,  hungry,”  the  child 
said,  gazing  earnestly  at  him,  “  I  am  hungry 
for  more.  I  wish  it  were  next  Sabbath.” 

“  Ah,  you  want  to  have  two  dinners  at 
once,  you  rogue,  do  you?”  and  Mr. 
Aguilar  laughed  heartily  as  Grace  ran  to 
help  her  mother. 


68 


V 

A  NEW  FRIEND 


The  days  and  weeks  went  by  quickly, 
marked  by  no  great  event  in  Grace’s  life, 
no  wonderful  incidents  to  be  chronicled. 
There  were  tasks  to  be  done  punctually, 
home  duties  to  be  performed  quietly. 
Music,  reading,  sewing,  dally  lessons  with 
her  mother,  a  short  essay  weekly,  and  the 
dally  entry  In  her  precious  diary,  this  kept 
her  mornings  fully  occupied.  In  the  after¬ 
noon  she  would  romp  In  the  orchard  with 
one  or  two  of  her  girl  friends,  or  walk  out 
In  the  woods  with  them.  She  would  spend 
time  tidying  the  garden  or  arranging  her 
collection  of  shells.  She  did  not  know 
how  to  be  Idle.  One  afternoon  she  was  In 
the  orchard  reading  a  favorite  book,  when 
her  mother  called  to  her  from  the  porch: 

“  O  Grace,  I  have  something  to  say  to 


59 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“What  is  it,  mother?’’  asked  Grace, 
running  to  her. 

“  I  met  Agnes  Cameron  a  little  while 
ago,  and  she  said  that  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Hall, 
was  coming  to  see  us  this  afternoon.  She 
wishes  very  much  to  meet  you.  Why, 
there  they  are,”  and  soon  Mrs.  Hall  was 
the  centre  of  an  interested  circle.  She  was 
a  clever,  entertaining  woman,  only  recently 
married  to  an  artist  of  some  distinction, 
and  she  was  already  showing  marked 
ability  in  her  articles  in  the  press.  She  was 
cheerful  and  animated,  as  was  to  be 
expected  from  one  of  Irish  birth.  In  her 
fifteenth  year  she  had  left  Dublin,  and  had 
lived  since  in  London,  where  she  had 
gained  a  host  of  friends.  She  liked  particu¬ 
larly  young  friends,  and  was  glad  to  be 
brought  to  the  Aguilars,  to  whose  daughter 
her  niece  Agnes  was  attached  so  tenderly. 

“  Mrs.  Aguilar,”  she  exclaimed,  after 

they  had  chatted  a  while,  “  I  have  a 

60 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


request  to  make  of  you.  Agnes  has  talked 
so  much  of  Grace  to  me  that  I  know  her 
almost  as  well  as  she  does.”  And  she 
smiled  as  she  clasped  Grace’s  hand. 

“  And  what  Is  this  request,  Mrs.  Hall?  ” 
Mrs.  Aguilar  asked  somewhat  amused,  for 
she  imagined  what  was  desired. 

“  I  want  Grace  with  me  for  a  morning. 
If  not  a  whole  day.  In  London.  I  want  to 
show  her  the  sights,  the  shops,  the  people. 
Do  let  her  come,  Mrs.  Aguilar.” 

“  Do,”  implored  Agnes,  “  do  let  her  go. 
She  will  have  the  time  of  her  life.” 

“  And  it  will  not  be,  Mrs.  Aguilar,  like 
poor  Mike  MacGowan,  who  was  sent  to 
jail  for  fifty  years,  and  had  the  time  of  his 
life !  ”  and  again  Mrs.  Hall  smiled  In  her 
winning  manner. 

“  It  Is  very,  very  kind  of  you,  Mrs. 
Hall,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  said,  “  to  take  so 
much  Interest  in  my  daughter.  I  shall  let 
Grace  answer  for  herself.  Do  you  wish 

61 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


to  spend  a  morning  in  London  with  Mrs. 
Hall?” 

“  Oh,  yes,  mother,”  Grace  answered 
joyously.  “  I  should  dearly  like  to  go. 
Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Mrs.  Hall.” 

“  My  daughter  accepts  your  kind  invita¬ 
tion,  and  will  be  ready  any  day  to  accom¬ 
pany  you.  Only  do  not  let  her  see  such 
magnificent  sights  that  she  will  not  look 
with  favor  on  her  quiet  home  when  she 
returns.” 

“  Mother  dear,  there  is  no  danger  of 
that,”  Grace  replied  with  an  impulsive 
embrace. 

“  She  will  love  the  quiet  home  and  its 
gentle  ways  only  the  more  for  her  brief 
absence,”  Mrs.  Hall  exclaimed,  as  she  rose 
to  leave.  “  I  shall  call,  Grace,  within  a 
few  days,  and  bring  you  back  safe  and 
sound  before  dark.  Good-bye,  dearie. 
Good  morning,  Mrs.  Aguilar.” 

And  the  same  week  Grace  found  herself 

62 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


in  the  streets  of  London,  side  by  side  with 
Mrs.  Hall,  who  was  fond  of  walking,  and 
an  excellent  guide  as  well  as  companion. 
They  were  soon  a  distance  from  her  home, 
which  was  near  the  British  Museum,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  few  hours  they  saw  many 
famous  sights,  besides  having  a  light  lunch 
at  a  tea-shop.  The  parks  with  the  well- 
kept  paths,  the  markets  full  of  fresh  flowers 
and  vegetables,  the  window  boxes  of  blos¬ 
soms  In  many  houses  that  enlivened  the 
dusty  stone  work  or  smoke-blackened 
bricks,  aroused  her  admiration.  Then,  as 
they  turned  Into  the  business  thoroughfares, 
with  their  long  line  of  warehouses,  hurrying 
throngs  of  people,  deafening  noise  of  car¬ 
riage,  wagon,  and  ’bus,  with  bridges  In  the 
distance  veiled  In  fog,  Grace  clung  to  Mrs. 
Hall  half  In  fear.  But  she  overcame  her 
timidity  when  Mrs.  Hall  began  to  talk. 

“  Just  think,  Grace,  that  Shakespeare 

once  trod  this  street,  the  Strand,  and  not 

63 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


far  from  here  he  acted  in  his  theatre.  And 
as  he  strolled  across  the  old  bridge,  how  he 
must  have  studied  the  faces  of  passers-by 
and  watched  their  attitudes !  He  was  a 
careful  observer,  and  that  is  why  his  works 
live  to-day,  and  will  live  for  ages  to  come. 
Many  of  his  songs  and  speeches,  his  clowns 
and  princes,  sprang  into  his  mind  amid 
these  crowded,  narrow  streets.” 

“  But,  Mrs.  Hall,”  Grace  quickly  re¬ 
joined,  “  surely  his  Oberon,  with  his  ‘  wild 
thyme,  oxlip,  and  nodding  violet,’  could  not 
have  sprung  from  the  London  streets. 
Shakespeare  must  have  thought  of  the  fields 
around  Stratford,  when  he  wrote,  ‘  Cuckoo 
buds  of  yellow  hue  do  paint  the  meadows 
with  delight’  ” 

“  Grace,  you  adorable  girl,  I  never 
thought  you  knew  your  Shakespeare  so 
well.” 

“We  spent  a  month  at  Stratford  on  one 
of  our  journeys.” 


64 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


“  Did  you,  dear?  Come,  let  us  hurry 
on.  There  is  Fleet  Street,  and  you  can 
imagine  Doctor  Johnson  taking  his  walk 
up  and  down,  with  Boswell  at  his  heels. 
He  loved  his  cup  of  tea — or  shall  we  say 
tay? — and  his  Fleet  Street — and — ” 

At  this  moment,  a  tall  man  of  about 
forty,  well-dressed  and  clear-eyed,  drew 
near  and  bowed  to  Mrs.  Hall. 

“  O  Mr.  Montefiore,”  she  exclaimed, 
leading  Grace  to  him.  “  This  is  Grace 
Aguilar,  Mr.  Emanuel  Aguilar’s  daughter, 
to  whom  I  am  showing  a  bit  of  London, 
a  rare  bit,  indeed.” 

“  I  am,  indeed,  glad  to  meet  you,  my 
daughter,”  Mr.  Montefiore  rejoined.  “I 
know  your  parents  very  well.  They  are 
both  good  friends  of  mine,  and  deservedly 
held  in  high  esteem.” 

“  And  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Mon¬ 
tefiore.  My  father  told  me  only  a  few 
days  ago  that  you  had  just  returned  from 
the  Holy  Land.” 

5 


65 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“  Yes,  indeed,  my  first,  but  not  my  last, 
journey,  I  trust,  to  the  land  of  our  fathers, 
may  the  Almighty  restore  its  greatness 
and  rebuild  its  desolated  cities !  ’’  The 
words  came  reverently  to  his  lips  amid  the 
stir  and  bustle  of  one  of  London’s  busiest 
streets.  “  And  now,  ladies,  I  must  bid  you 
good-day,”  he  adde'd  in  a  courtly  manner. 
“  Give  my  very  kindest  regards  to  your 
dear  parents,  and  beg  them  to  bring  you  to 
see  me  and  my  wife  at  the  earliest  oppor¬ 
tunity.  And  you,  Mrs.  Hall,  tell  your 
good  husband  that  I  should  like  him  to  call 
next  Wednesday.  It  is  possible  that  I  may 
have  secured  a  good  patron  for  him.  He 
does  fine  work,  madam,  fine  work.  Good- 
day!  ”  and  the  tall  form  disappeared  in 
the  throng. 

“  That  is  a  remarkable  man,  Grace,” 
Mrs.  Hall  observed.  “  He  is  all  good¬ 
ness.” 

“  Yes,  and  how  he  loves  the  Holy  Land! 

66 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


To  utter  a  prayer  in  the  open  street  for  its 
restoration !  ”  added  Grace. 

“  Look,  Grace,  look  at  that  young  man, 
so  extravagantly  dressed,  with  a  cane  in  his 
hand  and  constantly  bowing  to  people !  ” 

“  Why,  he  seems  to  know  everybody,” 
said  Grace,  wonderingly.  “  What  a  curi¬ 
ous  curl  on  his  forehead,  as  he  raised  his 
hat!  Is  he  an  actor,  Mrs.  Hall?  ” 

That  is  young  Disraeli,  the  son  of 
Isaac  Disraeli,  who  is  a  kind  of  literary 
hermit.  Perhaps  I  may  take  you  some 
morning  to  his  den.  The  son  is  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  man  of  about  twenty-four.  His  first 
novel,  ‘  Vivian  Grey,’  is  still  the  talk  of  the 
town.  He  was  eighteen  when  he  wrote  it. 
I  fancy  he  intends  to  be  Prime  Minister 
some  of  these  days.  He  has  enough  ambi¬ 
tion,  although  it  may  overleap  itself. 
There,  he  is  talking  to  Samuel  Rogers,  who 
counts  his  verses  and  his  bonds,  for  he  is  a 
banker  poet.  Rogers  is  a  family  friend, 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  at  his  advice  Isaac  Disraeli  had  his 
family  baptized.” 

“  Oh,  Mrs.  Hall,  how  could  they  forsake 
the  living  God  of  Israel?  ”  and  Grace  was 

i 

deeply  moved. 

“  Tut,  tut,  tut,  child !  It  was  merely  pique 
on  his  part.  I  don’t  think  he  cared  much 
for  any  other  God  than  his  book  dust.  He 
had  a  quarrel  with  the  synagogue  about  the 
payment  of  a  fine,  and  in  anger  at  what  he 
considered  an  unjust  claim  he  left  the  con¬ 
gregation,  and  had  his  children  baptized. 
You  can  ask  your  parents  more  about  the 
matter.  But  it  is  growing  late,  and  we 
must  return  home,  although  not  until  I 
show  you  New  Court,  where  the  Roths¬ 
childs  have  their  office.  Look,  it  is  that 
plain  building.  They  are  kings  in  the 
world  of  business,  and  strictly  honorable  in 
all  their  dealings,  as  every  nation  knows.” 

“  Yes,  yes,  Mrs.  Hall.  I  read  all  about 

the  Rothschilds,  and  how  they  got  their 

68 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


name  from  the  red  shield  on  the  old  home 
in  Frankfort.  Didn’t  they?  ” 

“  Yes,  indeed.  The  history  of  that 
family  is  as  interesting  as  a  romance.  But 
really,  Grace,  we  must  hurry.  I  promised 
to  bring  you  home  before  dark.  Come,  my 
child.” 

Grace  reached  home  a  little  after  dark. 
Her  parents  had  not  been  at  all  worried  on 
her  account,  for  they  knew  that  she  was  in 
safe  hands.  They  thanked  Mrs.  Hall 
warmly  for  her  kindness,  and  she  left  after 
inviting  Grace  to  spend  an  entire  day  with 
her  in  a  few  weeks.  While  the  Aguilars 
resided  in  the  outskirts  of  London,  Grace, 
usually  accompanied  by  her  friend  Agnes, 
visited  Mrs.  Hall  often,  and  came  to  know 
some  of  the  famous  artists  and  writers  of 
the  time.  Under  her  guidance  she  went  to 
Westminster  Abbey  with  its  tombs  and 
memorials  of  great  men,  or  to  the  Tower 

of  London  with  its  gloomy  and  gruesome 

69 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


memories,  or  to  the  old  nooks  and  corners 
associated  with  the  lives  and  works  of  emi¬ 
nent  authors  of  the  past,  of  which  London 
was  then  so  full.  And  Grace  never  tired 
of  these  trips. 

“  Mrs.  Hall,”  she  said  once  to  her 
friend,  “  you  know  I  intend  to  be  a  writer.” 

“  That  is  a  noble  profession.  Perhaps 
some  day  I  may  edit  a  magazine,  and  have 
you  as  a  contributor.  Tell  me,  Grace,  have 
you  written  anything  yet?  ” 

“  Well,”  the  girl  replied  shyly,  “  I  write 
every  day  in  my  diary,  and  I  am  planning  a 
drama.” 

“  A  drama,  Grace  I  Why,  that  is  aiming 
pretty  high,  is  it  not?  ” 

“  It  is  about  Gustavus  Vasa,  the  hero  of 
Sweden.  I  do  not  know  if  I  shall  ever 
have  time  to  finish  it,”  and  Grace  sighed. 

“  And  what  other  literary  plans  have 
you.  Miss  Shakespeare-Milton?  ” 

“  You  will  not  laugh  if  I  tell  you?  You 

70 


A  NEW  FRIEND 


promise,  promise,  promise !  ”  And  Mrs. 
Hall  solemnly  promised. 

“  Well,  I  want  to  champion  my  people 
and  my  religion,”  she  said  proudly. 

“  Dearest  Grace,  no  wish  could  be 
nobler,  no  aim  higher.  Perhaps  I  may  aid 
you.  Who  can  tell?  ” 

Ah,  who  can  tell  how  each  human  life 
is  guided,  how  influences  are  brought  to 
bear  on  each  one  of  us,  how,  when  once  our 
thoughts  and  ambitions  are  turned  in  the 
right  direction,  a  thousand  friends  are  at 
our  side,  although  we  know  it  not?  Who 
could  tell  how  deeply  in  the  coming  years 
Mrs.  Hall  was  to  love  Grace  Aguilar,  how 
useful  was  to  be  her  counsel,  and  how,  at 
the  last,  she  was  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
her  friend’s  grave  at  Frankfort,  not  very 
far  from  the  Rothschild  house,  and  write 
so  tender  and  inspiring  a  tribute  in  her 
memory? 


71 


VI 

LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


Most  boys  and  girls  are  fond,  at  one 
time  in  their  lives,  of  keeping  a  diary.  At 
least  they  start,  with  much  resolution,  a 
diary  that  shall  record  their  daily  expe¬ 
riences.  With  what  care  they  begin  the 
first  page,  as  if  it  were  the  most  solemn 
matter  in  the  world !  How  faithfully  they 
write  the  next  day’s  chronicle,  and  the  next, 
and  possibly  the  next,  and  then  the  entries 
become  less  and  less,  and  after  a  few 
attempts  to  recover  lost  ground  and  do 
the  task  properly,  they  cease  altogether.  A 
few  pages,  some  fragmentary  records,  a 
date  and  an  address  here  and  there,  that  is 
the  diary  of  most  of  them. 

Now,  to  keep  a  diary  properly  and  faith¬ 
fully  is  a  delightful  occupation.  Never 
mind  how  busy  we  may  be  and  how  active  at 

school  or  at  home,  at  play  or  at  our  studies, 

72 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


it  is  always  possible  to  take  a  few  minutes, 
ten  or  fifteen  at  the  most,  and  write  down 
the  interesting  incidents  of  each  day,  some 
briefly  and  others  at  greater  length.  What 
we  see  and  hear,  the  many  topics  that  are 
brought  to  our  attention,  the  hopes  we  cher¬ 
ish,  the  plans  we  are  considering,  the  happy 
thoughts  that  occur  to  us^ — why  should  we 
not  try  to  retain  these  in  our  memory?  By 
keeping  a  diary  we  improve  in  many  ways. 
We  learn  to  write  more  correctly  and 
express  our  thoughts  more  fluently.  After 
a  few  months  we  can  realize  the  progress 
we  are  making.  Of  course,  in  such  a  diary 
we  should  not  exaggerate  or  magnify  what 
takes  place,  nor  should  we  write  too  much 
about  ourselves,  as  if  we  were  the  most 
important  people  in  the  world.  We  should 
avoid  recording  mere  trifles  and  moods, 
passing  swiftly  as  the  flight  of  birds.  We 
should  fasten  upon  what  is  real,  genuine, 
and  vital. 


\ 


73 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


From  her  babyhood,  pencil  and  paper 
had  had  a  fascination  for  Grace.  They 
were  the  toys  that  satisfied  her  for  hours. 
Merely  to  draw  odd  lines  and  scratch  the 
soft  surface  of  the  paper  was  a  delight  to 
her.  Gradually  the  lines  became  more 
regular,  and  little  by  little,  when  she 
noticed  the  larger  letters  on  newspapers 
and  shop  signs,  she  began  to  form  her  let¬ 
ters.  With  some  help  from  her  mother, 
always  ready  to  aid,  she  next  wrote  short 
words,  then  simple  sentences,  and  before 
her  seventh  year  her  progress  was  so 
marked  that  she  could  send  a  neatly  written 
and  well-composed  letter  to  her  father  when 
he  was  away  on  one  of  his  trips. 

It  was  in  about  her  seventh  year  that  she 
began  to  keep  regularly  a  daily  journal,  or 
diary,  jotting  down  what  she  saw  or  heard 
or  thought,  with  the  strictest  regard  for  the 
truth.  After  visiting  a  new  scene,  or  meet¬ 
ing  some  friend  of  her  parents  who  had  just 

74 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


returned  from  abroad,  she  delighted  to 
record  the  impression  that  such  incidents 
made.  Her  parents  were  fond  of  the 
beauties  of  nature,  and  early  directed  her 
attention  to  what  was  particularly  lovely 
or  striking  in  the  landscape,  in  wave  and 
cloud,  in  starlight  and  sunset.  No  flower 
and  no  shrub  were  too  small  to  escape  her 
notice.  And  in  her  diary  she  would  recall 
anything  unusual  in  the  many  objects  she 
observed  on  her  journeyings  with  her 
parents,  whether  a  shell  or  a  plant,  a  rock 
or  a  tree.  It  was  the  beauty  of  the  scenery 
in  Devonshire  that  inspired  Grace,  when 
the  Aguilars  went  to  reside  there,  to  write 
her  earliest  verse,  which  showed  promise  of 
greater  merit  with  the  years.  Here  it  was 
that  her  parents  noticed  her  poetical  gifts, 
and  tried  to  develop  her  taste  and  improve 
her  mind.  They  were  careful  not  to  praise 
her  too  much,  when  she  showed  them  a  poem 

she  had  written,  nor  did  they  discourage 

75 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


her.  She  knew,  however,  that  there  were 
more  important  duties  to  be  done  than  writ¬ 
ing  poetry.  Hence  she  wrote  few  poems, 
which  showed  wise  restraint  on  her  part. 

After  her  first  day  in  London  with  Mrs. 
Hall,  her  diary,  always  thoughtful,  assumed 
a  still  more  serious  spirit.  More  and  more, 
without  losing  its  simplicity,  it  became  a 
treasure  house  of  her  dearest  thoughts  and 
resolves.  What  her  playmates  said  and 
did,  Maud’s  pleasantry,  Sylvia’s  timidity, 
or  Agnes’s  helpful  counsel  were  recorded 
less  and  less,  while  the  thoughts  inspired  by 
a  book,  or  suggested  by  a  conversation  with 
her  parents,  were  reported  at  greater  length 
and  with  more  frequency. 

“  1828,  August  II.  Mother  took  me 
yesterday  to  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monte- 
fiore.  They  were  very  kind,  and  they  asked 
us  to  come  soon  again.  Mrs.  Montefiore  is 

a  very  sweet  woman,  so  devoted  to  her  hus- 

76 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


band,  who  looks  like  a  giant  next  to  her. 
She  has  a  gentle  voice  and  loving  ways. 
Both  appear  to  be  of  one  spirit  in  their  love 
of  Jerusalem.  I  noticed  the  name  in 
Hebrew  In  different  parts  of  their  sunny 
parlor,  on  the  wall  and  over  the  centre 
window.  Mr.  Montefiore  spoke  Interest¬ 
ingly  about  his  recent  trip  to  Palestine.  He 
thinks  the  young  men  and  women  there 
need  to  be  taught  useful  trades  and  occupa¬ 
tions,  and  the  people  should  engage  more 
In  tilling  the  soil,  as  our  fathers  did  ages 
ago.  He  regards  it  as  the  highest  purpose 
of  his  life  to  help  Jerusalem,  so  that  the 
‘  waste  places  of  Zion  shall  rejoice  ’  and 
‘  the  wilderness  blossom  like  the  rose.’  I 
was  too  timid  to  speak;  I  only  listened  to 
his  kind  and  wise  words.  How  dearly 
should  I  like  to  visit  them  again  and  tell 
them  all  I  wish  and  hope  for  when  I  grow 
older!  I  do  not  think  that  I  should  make 

It  so  much  my  aim  to  go  to  Palestine  and 

77 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


help  to  educate  my  people  there,  as  to  teach 
them  here  in  England  and  their  neighbors 
of  other  creeds  how  noble  and  beautiful  our 
religion  is . ” 

Grace  always  had  reverence  for  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  and  somewhat  later,  after  listening  to 
organ  music  in  one  of  the  London  churches, 
— organs  were  not  permitted  in  the  syna¬ 
gogues — she  composed  a  lengthy  poem  on 
“  A  Vision  of  Jerusalem,”  which  she  after¬ 
wards  rewrote.  These  few  opening  verses 
illustrate  her  fervent  style : 

I  saw  thee,  O  my  fatherland,  my  beautiful,  my  own  I 
As  if  thy  God  had  raised  thee,  from  the  dust  where 
thou  art  strewn. 

His  glory  cast  around  thee,  and  thy  children  bound 
to  Him, 

In  links  so  brightly  woven,  no  sin  their  light  could  dim. 

Methought  the  cymbal’s  sacred  sound  came  softly  on 
my  ear; 

The  timbrel  and  the  psaltery  and  the  harp’s  full  notes 
were  near; 

And  thousand  voices  chanted  His  glory  to  upraise. 
More  heavenly  and  thrillingly  than  e’en  in  David’s 
days. 


78 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


“  1828,  September  ii.  My  mother  told 
me  a  thrilling  thought  this  morning — just  as 
different  flowers  blossom  in  different  parts 
of  the  world,  so  there  are  good  qualities  in 
the  various  religions.  No  religion  should 
say,  All  the  good  qualities  are  in  me,  and 
my  blossoms  surpass  in  beauty  and  perfume 
those  elsewhere.  For  a  wise  purpose  God 
has  sent  to  earth  the  Jew,  the  Christian, 
and  the  Mahometan,  and  when  these  real¬ 
ize  their  best  principles,  then  is  our  Mes¬ 
siah’s  coming  hastened  and  the  era  of  per¬ 
fection  near.  The  Jew  may  feel  that  his 
religion  is  the  best — and  it  is  the  best  for 
him — but  it  is  not  right  for  him  to  boast  of 
it  before  others.  That  only  arouses  their 
enmity.  Let  the  Jew  show  his  superiority 
by  the  superior  life,  my  mother  said.  She 
thinks  that  much  of  the  prejudice  against 
the  Jew  is  due  to  the  claim  that  he  is  better 
than  his  neighbor.  He  should  say  like 
Cassius  to  Brutus  in  Shakespeare’s  Julius 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Caesar,  ‘  I  said  an  older  not  a  better 
soldier;  ’’ 

“  1828,  September  17.  I  like  Maud,  I 
admire  Sylvia,  but  I  love  Agnes.  I  like 
Maud  for  her  humor  and  her  cheerfulness. 
I  admire  Sylvia  for  her  modest  ways,  her 
desire  to  please,  and  her  unselfishness.  But 
I  love  Agnes — she  is  so  good  and  helpful, 
she  answers  so  slowly  and  calmly,  she  is 
like  a  rock,  and  one  may  depend  upon  her 
for  the  right  word  and  the  right  deed. 
.  .  .  .  They  will  all  grow  up  into  noble 
women,  but  I  think  Agnes  will  be  most 
beloved.  She  will  be  just  like  dear  Mrs. 
Anna  Maria  Hall,  my  best  friend  next  to 
my  mother  and  my  father.  May  God  keep 
them  all  in  His  loving  care.  Amen.” 

1828,  September  19.  My  father  told 
me  yesterday  of  a  balloon  ascension  in 

London  in  the  morning,  and  how  the 

80 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


intrepid  balloonist  remained  aloft  for  three 
hours,  being  so  long  out  of  sight  that  the 
people  were  frightened,  and  then  he  floated 
down  to  the  ground  in  fine  condition. 
Many  think  that  balloons  will  become  as 
common  as  omnibuses,  and  will  carry  us 
for  miles,  perhaps  across  to  Paris  or  even 
to  America.  My  father  said  that  the  world 
is  only  at  the  beginning  of  great  discoveries 
in  science  that  will  benefit  mankind  won¬ 
derfully,  and  bring  all  the  nations  very 
near  to  each  other.” 

“  1828,  October  i.  I  do  not  know  why 
I  made  so  many  foolish  mistakes  when 
playing  the  piano  to-day.  I  love  music 
dearly,  and  if  such  blunders  occur  again,  I 
shall  feel  deeply  mortified.  It  was  a  Spring 
Song  I  was  trying  to  play.  I  should  have 
thought  of  the  flowers  under  the  ground 
waiting  to  blossom  forth,  of  the  streams  in 

the  woods  beginning  to  be  free  from  ice, 
6  81 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


of  the  tall  trees  ready  to  put  forth  their 
tiny  buds.  The  song  should  have  a  joyous 
melody,  and  I  gave  it  a  gloomy  tone,  as 
though  spring  days  were  full  of  sadness. 
My  mother  always  insists  upon  my  feeling 
what  the  music  is  to  express.  She  says 
that  only  in  this  way  can  a  pianist  sympa¬ 
thize  with  the  theme  and  the  composer; 
otherwise  a  player  is  wooden  and  mechani¬ 
cal.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  be  able  to 
write  music  of  my  own.  What  rapture ! 
That  would  be  a  greater  triumph  than  writ¬ 
ing  poetry . ’’ 

“  1828,  October  7.  My  father  praised 
me  to-day  for  knowing  my  Hebrew  lesson 
well.  It  is  nice  to  receive  praise,  but  no 
Jewish  child  should  expect  praise  for  know¬ 
ing  the  Hebrew  language.  It  is  our  lan¬ 
guage  as  a  people.  To  read  the  language 
of  our  Psalmist  and  Prophets  is  a  privilege. 

At  the  colleges  they  teach  the  great  Latin 

82 


LEAVES  FROM  A  DIARY 


and  Greek  writers,  but  if  these  were  lost, 
all  would  not  be  lost.  If  our  Sacred  Writ¬ 
ings  vanish,  the  world  could  not  recover 
from  such  a  calamity.  When  we  study 
Hebrew,  we  do  our  share  to  preserve  Holy 
Writ.  What  a  glorious  thought,  to  repeat 
the  words  of  a  Moses,  a  David,  a  Micah, 
an  Isaiah !  My  father  said  that  their  writ¬ 
ings  live,  because  they  wrote,  not  for  their 
time  alone,  but  for  all  time.  If  any  other 
people  had  such  a  language  and  such  a 
heritage,  how  we  should  envy  them  I  .  .  .  . 
It  is  not  a  difficult  study.  By  learning  the 
meaning  of  a  few  words  daily,  in  a  short 
time  we  may  know  a  great  many  words, 
and  so  read  easily  without  the  use  of  a  dic¬ 
tionary,  which  is  so  very  tedious  to  the 
beginner.  Any  girl  of  ordinary  mind  can 
readily  master  the  grammar,  if  she  has  as 
good  a  teacher  as  my  father.  He  was  most 
amusing  yesterday,  when  he  said  that  the 

letters  of  the  Hebrew  alphabet  all  have 

83 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


some  meaning.  For  instance,  aleph  means 
an  ox;  bet,  a  house;  gimmel,  a  camel;  dalet, 
a  door,  and  so  on.  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Hall 
knows  any  Hebrew.  She  is  Irish,  and  they 
can  speak,  so  I  have  heard,  every  language, 
^hey  are  a  very  talkative  people.” 


VII 

A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


The  Aguilars  were  accustomed  to  walk 
out  with  their  daughter  on  a  Saturday 
afternoon  and  visit  a  neighbor  before  even¬ 
ing.  But  it  was  raining  so  heavily  on  the 
Saturday  we  are  speaking  of,  a  week  or  two 
after  Grace’s  membrable  day  in  London, 
that  they  found  home  the  best  place  in  such 
unpleasant  weather.  Grace  and  her  par¬ 
ents  had  the  knack  of  knowing  how  to 
amuse  themselves.  Having  active  minds, 
they  were  never  at  a  loss  how  to  pass 
the  time.  Nor  did  they  seek  outside  enter¬ 
tainment  when  it  was  supplied  from  within 
in  such  rich  measure. 

Is  that  idea  a  little  hard  for  you  to  under¬ 
stand  ?  Remember  that  there  are  two 
fairies  in  this  world  of  ours.  One  is  called 
Without,  the  other  Within.  The  former 

85 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Is  a  great  help  to  us,  for  it  controls  all  the 
Influences  that  come  to  us  from  the  weather, 
the  sunshine,  pleasant  visitors,  and  many 
other  agencies.  The  latter  Is  something 
Invisible,  something  that  cannot  be  seen.  It 
dwells  within  us.  In  our  minds  and  hearts 
and  feelings  and  sympathies.  When  these 
are  educated  aright,  and  we  are  taught  to 
be  helpful  and  active,  we  do  not  want 
Fairy  Without  to  entertain  us,  for  we  have 
Fairy  Within  for  that  very  purpose.  When 
It  rains  and  storms,  and  no  one  calls,  and 
the  house  seems  dreary.  Fairy  Within 
quietly  touches  our  mind  and  heart  with 
her  magic  wand,  and  so  happy  and  con¬ 
tented  are  we  that  we  do  not  care  about  the 
weather.  We  can  always  have  sunshine, 
If  only  we  answer  the  fairy’s  wondrous  call. 

In  other  words,  Grace  and  her  parents 
had  resources  within  themselves,  which 
occupied  them  cheerfully  even  on  stormy 

mornings  and  evenings,  and  on  this  Sabbath 

86 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


they  were  not  discontented  or  disappointed 
because  a  walk  was  impossible.  After  the 
cheerful  midday  meal  they  sat  together  on 
the  sofa  watching  the  heavy  rain,  and 
listening  to  the  frequent  thunder  claps. 

“  Do  you  know,  Grace,”  Mr.  Aguilar 
said,  after  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  “  that 
you  were  a  little  coward  in  your  early  child¬ 
hood,  and  always  cried  at  a  flash  of  light- 
ning.f* 

“  Was  I,  father?  ”  Grace  returned  smil¬ 
ingly.  “  It  was  very  foolish,  was  it  not?  ” 

“  One  day  I  determined  to  cure  you  of 
your  fear.  There  was  just  such  a  storm  as 
this.  We  were  staying  at  Hastings,  that 
charming  resort  by  the  sea,  and  there  was  a 
pretty  garden  back  of  the  house.  You  were 
very  much  alarmed,  and  I  felt  rather  morti- 
fled,  for  I  could  not  quiet  you.  As  soon  as 
I  noticed  that  the  clouds  were  breaking,  and 
the  rain  was  gradually  diminishing,  I  took 
you  cut  in  the  open  air,  although  there 

87 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


were  still  lightning  flashes  now  and  then. 
We  strolled  up  and  down  the  walk,  your 
tiny  hand  in  mine.  The  air  was  sweet 
after  the  storm,  the  flowers  looked  as  if 
they  had  enjoyed  their  shower  bath,  in  the 
distance  the  blue  of  the  sky  was  slowly 
widening.  And  then  I  told  you  how  the 
storm  benefits  air  and  soil,  flowers  and  fruit. 
And  you  said,  ‘  Faver,  I  sail  not  be  lightened 
any  more.’  ” 

Grace  could  not  help  laughing  at  Mr. 
Aguilar’s  attempt  to  mimic  her  voice,  while 
she  added  quickly,  “  Father,  I  remember 
now  that  you  seemed  like  a  big  giant  as  I 
walked  by  your  side,  and  your  hand  as 
large  as  a — as  a  dinner  plate.” 

“  And  yours,”  her  mother  chimed  in, 
“  was  as  small  as — as  small  as  the  hand 
of  the  tiniest  Queen  Titania  that  ever  ruled 
the  fairies.” 

“  Talking  about  fairies,”  her  father 

said,  “  what  do  you  say  to  a  story  which  is 

88 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


like  a  fairy  story  and  yet  not  wholly  a  fairy 
story?  ” 

“  The  very  thing,  father  ” — there  came 
a  kiss  and  a  hug — “  the  very  thing  and  the 
very  time  for  it,”  and  Grace  smoothed  her 
dress,  sat  back  on  the  sofa,  and  eagerly 
awaited  the  story.  She  did  not  have  long 
to  wait. 

The  King  and  Queen  of  Wisdomland 

It  was  a  warm  day  in  Jerusalem.  Solo¬ 
mon  the  king  had  just  returned  from  his 
morning’s  hurried  flight  on  his  magic  carpet 
through  the  air  to  the  mountain,  to  enjoy 
a  cool  breeze  that  would  refresh  him  for 
the  day.  He  was  resting  on  his  divan 
before  the  open  window  in  his  palace,  while 
five  slaves  fanned  away  the  flies,  and  made 
the  atmosphere  less  stifling.  In  the  garden 
that  stretched  In  front,  not  a  leaf  seemed  to 
stir.  A  haze  covered  the  city  in  the  dis¬ 
tance.  All  was  still.  Solomon  tried  to 

89 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


sleep,  but  whenever  his  eyelids  were  about 
to  close,  the  birds  on  a  tall  oak,  a  few  feet 
from  the  palace,  began  an  incessant  chatter, 
and  aroused  him.  Again  and  again  he  tried 
to  sleep,  but  to  no  purpose.  Suddenly  he 
sprang  from  the  window  and  listened. 
Now,  he  knew  the  language  of  all  the 
birds,  being  wise  above  all  men.  He 
thought  he  was  acquainted  with  the  customs 
of  all  countries,  their  kings  and  queens  and 
laws  and  people.  But  here  was  a  mere 
bird,  the  hoopoe,  with  its  long  pointed  bill, 
talking  to  a  chance  acquaintance  about  a 
nation  of  which  he,  the  great  Solomon,  was 
totally  ignorant.  So,  without  further  cere¬ 
mony,  he  called  the  bird  to  the  window, 
touching  at  the  same  time  a  seal  ring  that 
had  the  power  of  compelling  all  things  to 
do  his  bidding. 

“  Tell  me,”  he  exclaimed  to  the  trem¬ 
bling  bird,  which  was  dreadfully  alarmed  at 

being  spoken  to  without  an  introduction, 

90 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


“  tell  me,  what  land  were  you  talking 
about?” 

“  It  was  Sh-  Sh-  Sheba,  your  Majesty,” 
the  hoopoe  replied,  greatly  agitated. 

“  Ah,  Sheba !  And,  pray,  what  kind  of  a 
land  is  it?  ” 

“  O  your  Majesty,  the  very  dust  of  its 
soil  is  more  precious  than  gold,  and  the  dust 
of  its  streets  is  like  the  purest  silver.” 

“  A  fine  land,  indeed.  Anything  else  to 
say  about  it?  ” 

“  Yes,  your  Majesty,”  came  the  answer, 
in  less  nervous  tones,  for  the  bird  was  grow¬ 
ing  accustomed  to  Solomon’s  voice  and  man¬ 
ner.  The  trees  there  are  as  old  as  creation, 
and  the  brooks  and  rivers  flowed  from  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  which  supplied  also  the 
wreaths  and  garlands  that  adorn  the  peo¬ 
ple.” 

“  What  is  its  king’s  name?  Is  he  a  man 
of  might?  ” 

“  There  is  no  king,  your  Majesty,  but  a 

91 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


queen,  as  fair  as  the  morning  dawn,  as  wise 
as  an  owl  of  a  thousand  years,  and  as  good 
as  a  full  saucer  of  milk  on  a  warm  day.’’ 

Solomon  touched  his  seal  ring,  and  a 
black  slave  appeared,  so  tall  and  threaten¬ 
ing  that  the  bird  was  filled  with  terror  at 
the  sight. 

“  A  saucer  of  milk  at  once  for  the  bird,” 
the  king  exclaimed.  The  slave  vanished, 
and  in  a  second  returned  with  the  milk, 
which  the  hoopoe  enjoyed  greatly. 

“  Come,  my  fine  fellow,  now  that  you 
are  refreshed  I  wish  you  to  return  to  Sheba 
and  give  a  letter  to  its  fair  queen.”  The 
bird  bowed  in  meek  submission,  and  soon  it 
carried  Solomon’s  letter  under  Its  wing. 
The  note  was  written  on  the  thinnest  and 
smoothest  skin,  with  the  brightest  and 
clearest  ink,  and  perfumed  by  the  most 
fragrant  essence  of  rose.  It  was  as  light  as 
a  feather  of  the  tiniest  bird,  and  enclosed  in 

the  softest  swansdown,  so  that  It  was  no 

92 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


burden  for  the  hoopoe  to  carry.  Now, 
In  this  letter,  which  seemed  so  fair  and 
fragrant,  Solomon  commanded  the  queen 
to  appear  before  him.  “  If  thou  comest 
not,”  he  added,  “  I  shall  arouse  the  hosts 
of  the  air  and  the  land,  the  caves  and  the 
hidden  places  beneath  the  sea,  all  the  spirits 
of  day  and  of  night  that  obey  me,  and  they 
shall  advance  against  thee  and  thy  country 
In  swift  cohorts.  If  thou  art  really  wise, 
come,  come !  ” 

Great  was  the  terror  of  the  queen  when, 
one  bright  day,  the  hoopoe  appeared  before 
her  palace,  and  gave  her  a  mysterious  let¬ 
ter.  Although  the  sun  was  shining,  the 
day  grew  dark  to  her,  and  a  heavy  load 
weighed  upon  her  spirits.  In  her  dismay, 
she  turned  to  her  sages,  the  wise  men  who 
made  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  the  princes 
who  ruled  her  army,  and  she  implored 
them  to  give  her  counsel.  But  they  were  of 

no  avail.  They  had  never  heard  of  Solo- 

93 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


mon.  Yet  he  must  be  a  mighty  king,  so 
her  thoughts  ran,  to  know  how  to  speak  to 
the  hoopoe  I  So  she  resolved  to  visit  him. 
But  first  she  despatched  ships  filled  with 
precious  jewels,  costly  raiment,  the  finest 
embroideries  and  silks,  of  wonderful  color 
and  quality.  Besides,  she  sent  Solomon 
six  thousand  boys  and  girls,  clad  in  purple, 
all  of  the  same  age  to  the  very  minute,  and 
of  the  same  height  and  appearance.  And 
in  the  letter  forwarded  with  the  gifts,  she 
stated  that,  although  it  was  a  seven  years’ 
journey  from  the  capital  of  Sheba  to  the 
city  of  Jerusalem,  she  would  come  in  three 
years.  He  could  depend  upon  her  visit. 

At  last  she  came.  Great  were  the  rejoi¬ 
cings.  The  streets  were  crowded  with  peo¬ 
ple  eager  to  see  her.  After  a  sumptuous 
reception  and  banquet,  Solomon  resolved  to 
test  her  skill,  and  he  invited  her  to  set 
certain  tasks  before  him.  Thus  it  would 
be  proved  who  was  the  greater  in  wisdom- 

land,  the  king  or  the  queen. 

94 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


“  Here  are  two  wreaths,”  she  said,  pla¬ 
cing  two  wreaths  on  the  table  before  him. 
“Which  is  real,  which  artificial?”  He 
bade  a  slave  open  a  window,  and  a  bee 
humming  without  entered,  and  settled  upon 
the  real  flower,  and  Solomon  won  the  vic¬ 
tory. 

A  group  of  people  were  seen  in  a  corner 
of  the  hall,  all  dressed  alike  and  all  wearing 
masks.  “  Tell  me,”  the  queen  asked, 
“  which  are  men  and  which  women?  ”  He 
commanded  a  slave  to  give  each  of  them  a 
broom,  and  he  ordered  them  to  sweep.  It 
was  an  easy  matter  to  discover  from  the 
awkward  manner  of  some  that  they  were 
the  men.  And  again  Solomon  triumphed. 

“  A  riddle  I  shall  next  ask  you  to  solve,” 
the  queen  exclaimed.  “  What  cries  in  a 
heavy  windstorm  and  bends  Its  head  low, 
suffocates  the  criminal  and  clothes  the 
wealthy,  is  destruction  to  the  fish  and  pleas¬ 
ure  to  the  bird?  ”  Quick  as  a  flash  came 

Solomon’s  answer:  “  Flax.” 

95 


THE  young  champion 


“  One  more  riddle,  your  Majesty. 
What  is  that  which  comes  like  dust  from 
the  earth,  whose  food  is  dust,  which  is 
poured  out  like  water,  and  which  illumi¬ 
nates  the  house?  ”  In  an  instant  Solomon 
had  solved  it  by  the 'answer:  “  Naphtha.” 

“  Enough,  enough,”  replied  the  queen 
astonished  at  his  ready  and  correct  replies. 
“  I  did  not  believe  what  I  heard  of  thee, 
until  I  came  and  saw  with  my  own  eyes. 
Great  is  Solomon  of  Israel !  Happy  must 
be  thy  people !  ” 


The  story  was  over.  The  rain  had 
ceased. 

“  Did  you  enjoy  It,  my  daughter?  ”  Mr. 
Aguilar  asked. 

“Well,  it  was  very,  very  delightful, 
father,  but  that  hoopoe  was  altogether  too 
knowing  a  bird  to  ask  for  a  saucer  of  milk 
the  way  he  did.” 


90 


A  RAINY  AFTERNOON 


“  Come,  let  us  go  out  for  a  little  walk 
anyway,  Sarah.  Grace  need  not  come  unless 
she  wants  to.” 

“  Of  course  I  want  to  1  ”  And  the  three 
were  soon  enjoying  the  cool  air  of  early 
evening. 


7 


97 


VIII 

IN  THE  ORCHARD 


On  a  bright,  warm  Wednesday  after¬ 
noon  in  late  October,  on  a  school  holiday, 
three  girls  made  their  way  to  the  Aguilars, 
and  with  sundry  endearments,  in  which 
they  were  experts,  took  Grace,  who  was 
unresisting,  for  an  afternoon  all  by  them¬ 
selves.  Mrs.  Aguilar  was  glad  to  excuse 
her  daughter  from  her  tasks  for  the  day. 
The  child  needed  fresh  air,  and  the  few 
hours’  change  would  benefit  her. 

“  Where  will  you  go,  girls?  ”  she  asked. 
“  Will  it  be  the  orchard?  ” 

“  That  is  a  secret,  mother  of  Grace,” 
Agnes  replied  in  a  rather  lofty  tone. 

“A  secret,  Agnes!  A  secret!  Good¬ 
ness,  how  mysterious  you  are!  Do  you 
wish  to  arouse  my  curiosity?  ” 

The  girls  all  laughed,  while  Grace,  lin¬ 
gering  for  a  moment  to  give  her  mother  an 

98 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


extra  kiss,  whispered,  “  Of  course  It  Is  the 
orchard,  mother  dear.  Do  you  not  know 
that  It  Is  our  regular  meeting-room  and 
house  of  parliament?  ” 

Could  there  have  been  a  better  spot  for 
a  secret  meeting-place  than  the  orchard  In 
Sylvia’s  home,  a  large  farm  at  a  little  dis¬ 
tance  from  the  Aguilar  dwelling?  It  was 
removed  many  feet  from  the  main  building, 
and  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  trees  that 
grew  so  tall  and  with  such  widespread 
branches  that  they  shut  out  the  outside 
world.  Here  the  girls,  with  all  the  vigor 
at  their  command,  had  levelled  the  ground, 
cleared  away  the  fallen  leaves  and  twigs, 
set  up  a  small  bench  and  table;  and  when¬ 
ever  the  opportunity  came  and  the  weather 
was  favorable,  they  would  assemble  In 
secret  conclave,  as  If  they  were  the  most 
Important  body  In  the  kingdom. 

Secret?  They  thought  It  was  secret,  but 

there  were  shrewd  eavesdroppers,  who  llst- 

99 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


ened  and  wondered  and  smiled  and  listened 
again.  Secret?  Why,  the  birds  heard  all 
they  had  to  say,  and  chirped  and  chattered 
as  merrily  as  the  girls  themselves.  The  trees 
were  moved  In  sympathy,  as  the  happy 
voices  were  borne  to  their  swaying  boughs. 
The  clouds  knew  about  these  gatherings, 
and  were  so  Interested  that  on  more  than 
one  occasion  they  held  back  the  raindrops 
until  the  conference  was  over.  Secret, 
indeed!  As  if  such  joyous,  kind-hearted, 
loving  friends  could  wish  to  keep  a  secret 
of  their  gay  or  their  serious  moods! 

“Sylvia!”  It  was  Maud  who  spoke, 
while  munching  bread-cake,  which  had 
been  provided  in  lavish  quantities  by 
Sylvia’s  mother.  “  Whenever  I  get  under 
these  trees  I  feel  hungry,  and  It  is  only  two 
hours  since  I  had  luncheon.” 

“  Remarkable,  indeed,”  Agnes  said, 
adding,  as  she  drank  a  glass  of  milk  with 
evident  relish,  “  and  It  always  makes  me 
thirsty.” 


100 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


“  And  you,  Grace,”  Sylvia  asked,  “  how 
does  it  affect  you?  ” 

“  Well,  I  feel  too  happy  to  eat  or  drink.” 
And  Grace  looked  up  at  the  sky. 

“  Watch  her,  girls,”  Maud  exclaimed 
admiringly,  “  she  is  preparing  to  compose  a 
poem.  But  I’ll  write  one  first.  So  here 
goes : 

Although  not  dressed  in  silk, 

I  love  my  glass  of  milk, 

And  my  cheeks  are  rosy  red, 

Because  I  eat  cakebread. 

Do  excuse  my  use  of  the  word  cake- 
bread.  It  is  poetic  license  for  bread-cake. 
Still  I  might  just  as  well  have  written: 

And  I  always  am  awake 
Whene’er  I  see  bread-cake. 

Now,  there !  What  do  you  think  of  my 
original  poetry.  Miss  Aguilar?  ” 

“  Now,  for  my  part,”  so  ran  Sylvia’s 
calm  utterance,  “  I  do  not  see  much  sense 

in  poetry.  Of  course  ” — ^with  a  deep  bow 

101 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


to  Grace — “  I  do  not  wish  to  throw  any 
discredit  on  your  verse,  or  even  on 
Maud’s.” 

“  Very  flattering,  Sylvia,”  Maud  re¬ 
joined,  “  to  class  me  among  the  budding 
songsters.  The  honor  Is  overwhelming.” 

“  Why,  girls,”  Grace  remarked,  “  I  do 
not  write  poetry  very  often,  I  assure  you; 
only  now  and  then,  when  I  am  In  the  mood.” 

“  Do  tell  us,  Grace,  about  the  mood,” 
mischievous  Maud  asked.  “  Do  tell  us. 
Is  it  the  subjunctive  mood  or  the  Indicative 
mood  or  the  tender  mood?  ” 

“  I’ll  tell  you,  girls.  But  I  should  not 
notice  such  a  tease  as  Maud.  You  have  a 
certain  feeling  that  the  blossom  Is  more 
fragrant,  the  sky  broader,  and  your  parents* 
love  deeper  than  you  ever  knew  before. 
And  then  you  are  very,  very  quiet  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  the  verses  come.  Now 
do  you  understand?  ” 

“The  verses  come,  Grace?  Where  do 

they  come  from?  ”  Maud  asked  again. 

102 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


“  I’ll  explain,  girls,”  Sylvia  volunteered. 
“  It  is  just  as  when  you  make  an  omelet. 
You  stir  up  the  white  of  an  egg,  and  stir  up 
the  yolk  of  an  egg.  Then  you  put  in  a  lit¬ 
tle  salt  and  a  little  milk.  Next  you  pour  it 
all  into  the  pan,  and  there  you  are.”  Sylvia 
rather  prided  herself  on  her  proficiency  as  a 
cook,  and  on  this  occasion,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  it  was  as  much  to  display  her  ability 
in  that  line  as  to  explain  a  poet’s  moods  that 
she  was  so  eager  to  speak. 

“  Of  course,  Sylvia  is  right,”  Agnes 
observed.  “  Our  poet  stirs  up  her  ideas, 
and  puts  them  on  the  frying-pan  of  her 
mood,  don’t  you  see?  And  there  you 
are !  ” 

Loud  was  the  outcry  at  these  remarks, 
which  was  only  quieted  by  further  attention 
to  the  cake  and  the  milk,  in  which  Grace 
now  readily  joined.  When  these  had  wholly 
disappeared, — it  did  not  take  very  many 

minutes, — there  was  a  solemn  silence. 

103 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“  Girls,  let  us  be  serious  now.”  It  was 
Agnes  who  spoke,  and  in  her  most  queenly 
way.  “  Let  us  consider  calmly,  frankly, 
and  sincerely  what  is  our  aim  in  life,  or,  in 
other  words,  what  we  wish  to  become.  Do 
you  all  understand  the  question?” 

“  Certainly  we  do,”  Sylvia  responded. 
“  And  I  can  answer  at  once.  I  intend  to 
become  a  missionary.” 

“  A  missionary!  ”  Maud  exclaimed  with 
a  shudder.  “  A  missionary  1  Just  think  of 
Sylvia’s  going  among  the  savages  and  try¬ 
ing  to  make  them  civilized!  Just  think  of 
it!” 

“  Yes,  yes,”  Sylvia  repeated.  “  I  Intend 
to  be  a  missionary,  not  among  the  savages 
abroad,  but  among  civilized  people  at 
home;  not  in  Africa,  but  in  England.  I 
shall  teach  the  art  of  cookery.  The  field  is 
large,  my  father  says.  We  have  ample 
food  in  England,  but  very  poor  cooks. 
Now,  I  am  a  born  cook,  and  I  expect  to 

104 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


utilize  any  ability  I  possess  in  that  direction. 
What  aim  could  be  higher?  A  good  cook 
will  ensure  appetizing  food,  and  appetizing, 
nicely  prepared  food  means  health  for  mind 
and  body.  There  you  have  something 
practical  and  useful.  Kitchen  missionaries 
are  needed  more  and  more.  I  shall  be 
one,  and  armed  with,  dust-cloth  and  frying- 
pan  bring  about  a  new  era  at  our  meals. 
Hurrah  I  ” 

“  Hurrah  for  you !  ”  shouted  Maud, 
excitedly;  then,  growing  calmer,  she  said: 
“  Now,  I  am  not  so  unselfish.  My  highest 
aim  is  to  be  a  lady,  like  the  ladies  we  saw 
on  the  stage  last  December.  Do  you  not 
remember,  Agnes,  how  they  swept  majes¬ 
tically  across  the  boards,  with  long,  daz¬ 
zling  trains  and  black  patches  on  their 
chins?  They  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do 
but  walk  in  and  out,  and  always  with  new 
dresses.  I  shall  be  a  lady  most  assuredly. 

To  do  nothing  but  promenade  in  a  new 

105 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


dress  every  blessed  day,  that  is  my  ideal, 
girls;^ 

“  We  were  not  to  jest,”  Grace  interposed 
frowningly,  “  and,  Maud,  you  know  you 
are  jesting.” 

“  My  adorable  little  saint,  I  am  really 
and  truly  in  earnest.  My  aim,  as  I  stated, 
is  to  be  a  well-dressed  lady  with  a  black 
patch  on  her  chin.” 

“  O  Maud,  how  absurdly  you  talk,” 
cried  Sylvia.  “  She  is  incorrigible.” 

“  And  my  highest  aim,”  said  Agnes, 
after  apparently  thinking  a  great  deal,  “  is 
to  follow  my  aunt  Anna  Maria  all  over  the 
globe  and  gather  carefully  the  sheets  of 
paper  she  throws  wildly  on  the  floor  as  she 
finishes  each  page.  I  would  also  mend 
her  pens,  keep  her  ink-bottle  full,  arrange 
her  desk  with  due  orderliness,  and  so  help 
her  that  she  might  write  and  write  on  for¬ 
ever.” 

“  Why,  Agnes  Cameron,”  it  was  Maud’s 

106 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


scornful  utterance,  “  that  is  absurd.  You 
are  merely  jesting,  Miss.”  She  imitated 
Grace’s  voice  and  manner  so  cleverly  that 
a  general  outburst  of  laughter  followed, 
amid  which  Sylvia’s  dog  came  running  into 
the  charmed  circle.  He  was  called  Nap. 
His  real  name  was  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
but  he  was  such  a  small  fox  terrier  that 
a  long  name  seemed  to  irritate  him.  Call 
“Nap!”  “Come,  Nap!”  “  Now  jump, 
Nap!  ”  and  he  was  ready  to  fly  for  you. 
But  if  you  addressed  him,  “  Come,  Napo¬ 
leon  Bonaparte !  ”  he  would  not  advance  an 
inch  or  wag  his  tail  in  response.  He  was 
evidently  a  dog  of  fixed  purpose. 

“It  is  your  turn,  Grace,”  Sylvia  cried, 
clapping  her  hands.  “  Come,  tell  us!  ” 

“  Shall  I  tell  the  truth,  girls?  Now, 
please  do  not  laugh  at  the  confession.  I 
wish  to  become  a  writer,  and  in  my  writings 
I  want  to  teach  as  well  as  entertain.  My 

home  has  been  so  happy  and  my  parents  so 

107 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


loving  that  I  should  like  to  write  books  that 
would  brighten  other  lives  and  make  other 
homes  as  happy.  And — ” 

Grace  hesitated  for  a  moment.  The 
girls  were  struck  by  her  earnest  face,  and 
they  listened  attentively  as  she  went  on : 

“  — and  I  have  another  aim  in  life.  Do 
you  remember,  Sylvia,  in  one  of  our  sum¬ 
mer  strolls  in  the  woods  we  saw  a  gypsy 
woman,  and  you  said  that  she  was  a  witch 
or  a  Jewess?  ” 

“  O  Grace,  I  told  you  I  was  sorry,  did 
I  not?” 

“  Now,  Sylvia,  I  want  to  prove  that  the 
Jewess  is  no  witch,  and  I  desire  that  the 
world  honor  her  for  all  she  has  been.  You, 
Sylvia,  a  sweet  English  girl,  and  reared  in 
an  intelligent  Christian  home,  have  not 
entirely  lost  a  certain  feeling  of  prejudice, 
due  wholly  to  ignorance.  And  I  would 
write  to  destroy  that  ignorance.  The 

Jewess  was  the  pioneer  in  all  that  makes 

108 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


for  home  and  religion.  She  was  a  princess 
like  Sarah,  a  leader  like  Deborah,  a  queen 
like  Esther,  a  noble  daughter  like  Ruth,  a 
tender  mother  like  Hannah.  If  to-day  she 
is  hunted  down  in  lands  that  claim  to  be 
civilized,  they  who  block  her  path  toward 
advancement  are  the  witches.  She  is  help¬ 
less  and  innocent.” 

Again  Grace  hesitated  for  a  moment, 
while  the  girls  watched  her,  too  fascinated 
by  her  serious  mood  to  interrupt. 

“  I  have  another  aim — to  teach  the 
Christian  and  the  Jew  to  respect  each  oth¬ 
er’s  creed  and  character.  They  revere  the 
same  Book,  are  guided  by  the  same  Ten 
Commandments,  pray  to  the  same  Father 
in  Heaven,  believe  in  an  immortal  life 
beyond.  I  am  telling  you  only  what  my 
mother  has  taught  me.  Why,  then,  should 
they  be  unfriendly  to  each  other?  They 
should  rather  work  together  against  those 

who  deride  all  religion,  and  have  no  other 

109 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


thought  than  their  own  selfish  enjoyment.” 

“  Dearest  Grace,”  Agnes  exclaimed  im¬ 
pulsively,  rushing  to  her  friend,  “  I  think 
you  have  the  best  aim  of  all,  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  succeed.  But  It  Is  almost  dark, 
and  we  must  return.  Look  at  that  faith¬ 
ful  Nap  trying  to  make  Sylvia  follow  him,” 
and  soon  the  dog  and  his  mistress  were 
running  towards  the  house,  while  Agnes, 
Maud,  and  Grace,  arm  In  arm,  were  slowly 
walking  home. 

That  evening  Sylvia  told  her  mother 
about  Grace  and  her  aim  In  life. 

“  Mother,  she  Is  the  dearest,  loveliest 
girl  In  the  whole  world,”  she  exclaimed. 
“  She  Is  not  a  Jewess  at  all,  I  declare.” 

“  Why,  my  daughter,  what  an  unjust 
remark!  Not  a  Jewess?  The  Agullars 
and  their  ancestors  were  nobles  and  schol¬ 
ars  when  your  fathers  were  common 
ploughmen  and  serfs.  I  am  surprised  to 

hear  such  an  idea  from  you.” 

110 


IN  THE  ORCHARD 


“  It  is  because  I  love  her  so  much, 
mother.  Oh,  why  does  she  not  go  to  our 
church?”  And  Sylvia  sighed. 

“  Listen,  daughter.  You  are  not  too 
young  to  know.  There  are  many  churches, 
but  only  one  church.  And  I  think  the  good, 
the  pure,  the  loving,  belong  all  to  one 
church  or  synagogue,  by  whatever  name 
it  may  be  called.  And  I  am  sure  Grace’s 
life  and  work  will  lead  many  worshippers 
to  God’s  universal  temple.  Now,  good 
night,  good  night,  Sylvia  dear!  ” 


111 


IX 

IN  THE  SHADOW 


The  early  November  days  were  damp 
and  gloomy.  The  fog  was  continuous. 
For  two  weeks  the  sun*  was  hardly  visible. 
In  the  great  city  a  dark  pall  or  cloud  set¬ 
tled  upon  all  things.  It  was  no  little  task  to 
cross  the  streets  without  being  run  over  by 
some  vehicle,  and  to  find  one’s  way  even  in 
the  day  time  was  difficult.  People  carried 
small  lanterns  to  guide  themselves  and  pre¬ 
vent  collisions  with  each  other.  Some  held 
glowing  torches  aloft  at  night.  As  a  rule 
few  walked  or  drove  in  the  evening,  and  at 
day  time  only  those  obliged  to  earn  their 
daily  bread.  Many  of  the  homes  in  the 
residence  district  were  lighted  up  day  and 
night,  the  friendly  candles  in  the  windows 
serving  as  beacons  in  the  mist  and  darkness. 

It  was  not  to  be  denied  that  the  weather 

told  upon  Grace,  although  she  made  a 

112 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


brave  fight  against  it,  doing  her  daily  tasks 
with  her  usual  regularity  and  cheerfulness. 
But  her  mother  noticed  her  growing  weak¬ 
ness  and  constant  cough;  and  without  tell¬ 
ing  her  daughter  she  summoned  the  family 
physician,  good  old  Doctor  Van  Ullem. 
He  came  without  delay,  and  his  orders 
were  imperative.  She  must  rest  in  bed  for 
some  weeks  to  regain  her  strength,  and 
when  the  sunshine  arrived  in  earnest,  not 
merely  for  an  hour  or  two,  she  would  be 
well  again. 

Grace  liked  the  old  doctor  and  his  quaint 
ways.  Although  gruff  and  harsh  to  others, 
he  always  had  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  for  her, 
and  with  her  his  voice  grew  tender  and 
gentle.  She  knew  all  about  the  history  of  his 
family,  which  had  fled  from  Spain  to 
escape  the  Inquisition.  For  a  time  they  had 
lived  as  Catholics,  until  they  could  sell  their 
property  and  secure  means  to  hasten  their 

flight.  They  were  then  called  Maranos, 
8  113 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  had  given  up 
their  ancient  faith.  In  reality,  however, 
they  were  warmer  Jews  than  before,  and  in 
secret  practiced  the  rites  and  ceremonies 
of  their  religion.  Their  prayers  would 
often  mingle  with  their  tears,  as  they  be¬ 
sought  the  Almighty  for  relief  and  freedom 
from  their  heavy  burdens.  Then,  one 
night,  they  escaped  in  disguise  to  the  coast, 
and  sailed  for  Amsterdam,  where  for 
years  they  struggled  with  poverty.  The 
doctor’s  father  had  settled  in  England, 
where  he  was  born,  and  gained  wealth  and 
reputation  in  his  chosen  calling. 

“  You  must  get  to  bed,  Gracie,”  those 
were  his  words.  “  Eat  all  you  can.  Sleep 
all  you  can.  You  do  not  need  any  drugs.  Do 
not  read  or  study.  Just  rest,  and  soon  you 
will  be  able  to  come  to  my  office,  and  we 
can  have  tea  and  toast,  if  you  will  permit 
me  to  escort  you  to  the  tea-shop  for  lunch.” 

Then  began  an  illness  whose  seriousness 

114 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Aguilar  quickly  realized. 
Daily,  sometimes  twice  daily,  Doctor  Van 
Ullem  called,  neglecting  other  duties  to 
help  and  save  Grace.  What  anxious  days, 
what  nights  of  ceaseless  watching!  Kindly 
neighbors  were  constant  in  their  help.  Mrs. 
Hall  came  direct  from  a  stay  in  Dublin, 
and  would  leave  only  on  condition  that 
Mrs.  Aguilar  wrote  regularly  of  the 
patient’s  progress.  Maud,  Sylvia,  and 
Agnes  were  daily  at  the  house,  cheering  the 
parents  by  their  presence  and  hopefulness. 
But  they  could  not  see  Grace — the  utmost 
quietness  was  essential.  Her  parents  by  day 
and  a  nurse  by  night  were  alone  her  attend¬ 
ants,  except  Doctor  Van  Ullem,  who  never 
neglected  his  visit,  often  coming  at  mid¬ 
night  to  be  assured  that  she  was  holding 
her  own. 

The  crisis  was  rapidly  approaching.  One 
night  more  would  show  if  the  shadow 

would  pass  away  which  rested  on  that  lov- 

115 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


ing  household  and  the  hearts  of  so  many 
friends.  Doctor  VanUllem  came  at  mid¬ 
night,  and  held  Grace’s  thin  hand  in  his 
heavy  palm,  now  softly  patting  her  fore¬ 
head,  now  gently  smoothing  her  straying 
curls.  The  parents  were  close  at  her  side. 
From  their  daughter  their  gaze  wandered 
to  the  good  physician,  as  if  to  gain  comfort 
from  his  reassuring  glance.  Not  a  sound 
was  heard  but  the  labored  breathing  of  the 
watchers.  Thus  they  sat  for  hours,  until 
the  dawn,  when,  gathering  more  and  more 
strength,  the  sun  burst  impatiently  through 
the  clouds  and  mist,  giving  promise  of  a 
clear,  bright  morning.  And  as  the  dark¬ 
ness  gave  way  to  light,  the  shadow  lifted 
from  the  household.  “  She  will  live,  dear 
friends,”  the  doctor  said,  with  a  confident 
air.  “  She  will  live  this  time,”  and  his  tears 
of  joy  could  not  be  restrained. 

“  God  bless  you.  Doctor  Van  Ullem, 
God  bless  you!”  the  mother  exclaimed. 

“  You  have  saved  my  darling.” 

116 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


“  Thank  the  Lord  Almighty,  Sarah 
Aguilar,”  the  gruff  man  replied,  half 
ashamed  of  his  emotion.  “  But  only  a 
miracle  will  save  her  the  next  time,  unless 
you  get  her  away  from  this  damp  and  fog, 
and  live  in  a  healthier  neighborhood.  But 
we  can  talk  of  that  later.  Now,  don’t  see 
me  to  the  door,  good  people.  I  know  my 
way.  Good  morning.  I  shall  call  at  noon.” 
And  seizing  his  heavy  cane,  he  was  soon 
tramping  down  the  road. 

And  Grace  did  live.  The  radiance  re¬ 
turned  to  her  eyes,  some  color  to  her  cheeks, 
more  strength  to  her  frame ;  but  for  a  week 
longer  she  remained  in  bed.  Then  came  a 
change.  She  was  carried  in  procession  by 
the  whole  crowd,  consisting  of  her  parents, 
the  nurse,  Maud,  Sylvia,  Agnes,  and  the 
dog,  who  looked  as  if  he  was  managing  the 
entire  affair — carried  as  special  guest  of 
honor  into  her  mother’s  bed,  a  huge  four- 

poster.  This  venerable  piece  of  furniture 

117 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


had  been  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation.  It  was  so  large  and  extensive 
that  It  almost  swallowed  Its  new  occupant, 
to  the  great  amusement  of  all. 

“  Now,  girls,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  said,  after 
they  had  kissed  and  hugged  Grace  In  their 
exuberance  of  joy,  “  now,  girls,  you  had 
better  go  home.  Let  Grace  rest  a  while. 
Come  after  a  few  days,  will  you  not?  You 
will  then  find  her  ever  so  much  stronger.” 

They  left  with  tearful  protestations 
against  Mrs.  Aguilar’s  ruling,  assuring  her, 
however,  that  they  would  all  come  in  a 
few  days  and  bring  Nap  along.  At  the 
word,  the  dog  scampered  through  the  open 
door,  leading  the  girls  a  merry  chase  until 
they  had  seen  Sylvia  to  her  home. 

“  O  Maud !  ”  Agnes  exclaimed  as  they 
resumed  their  walk — they  were  close  neigh¬ 
bors — “  I  could  hardly  keep  from  crying, 
to  see  Grace  so  thin  and  pale.” 

“  Oh,  she  will  soon  become  hearty  and 

118 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


strong.  I  tell  you,  Agnes,  she  needs  nour¬ 
ishing  food.  And  I,  Maud  Graham,  will 
prepare  for  her  an  omelet  that  will  rapidly 
restore  her  to  health.  Do  you  know  how 
I  prepare  an  omelet,  Agnes?  ”  And  Maud 
glanced  roguishly  at  her  friend.  “  I  can 
do  it  better  than  Sylvia.” 

Maud  Graham,  if  you  say  a  single 
word  more  about  making  an  omelet.  I’ll 
never  speak  to  you  for  a  whole — ” 

“  — minute !  ”  gaily  interrupted  Maud, 
and  further  remarks  were  checked  by  the 
sight  of  her  home,  into  which  she  disap¬ 
peared,  after  waving  repeated  farewells  to 
Agnes. 

Many  times,  indeed,  did  the  girls  call 
upon  Grace,  and  entertain  her  while  resting 
upon  the  big  bed  with  its  canopy,  which 
almost  touched  the  ceiling.  Often  did  the 
parents  recall  the  Psalmist’s  word,  “  Al¬ 
though  weeping  endures  through  the  night, 

joy  comes  with  the  morning.”  What  a 

119 


1 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


load  was  lifted  from  their  anxious  hearts, 
as  daily  they  saw  how  Grace  was  improv¬ 
ing,  and  how  her  interest  increased  in  her 
friends,  and  what  they  said  and  did.  At 
first  she  had  been  listless  and  indifferent. 

One  Saturday  morning  Agnes  and  Mrs. 
Hall  called,  and  were  overjoyed  to  notice 
how  much  better  she  was,  as,  fully  dressed, 
she  sat  on  the  bed.  The  day  was  sunny, 
the  air  was  as  warm  as  in  late  summer,  and 
the  skies  were  as  clear. 

“  Grace,”  said  Agnes,  giving  her  a  small 
volume,  “  here  is  a  book  which  Thomas 
Hood  wrote  not  long  ago.  It  Is  called 
‘  Whims  and  Oddities.’  It  will  certainly 
make  you  laugh.  My  aunt  knows  him. 
Do  you  not,  auntie?  ” 

“  Yes,  Indeed,  and  you  would  never  think 
that  he  could  write  such  funny  poems,  if 
you  saw  his  serious  face.” 

“  Here,  Grace,”  and  Agnes  opened  the 
book.  “  Look  how  this  poem  begins: 

120 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


Ben  Battle  was  a  soldier  bold, 

And  used  to  war’s  alarms; 

But  a  cannon  ball  took  off  his  legs, 
So  he  laid  down  his  arms.” 


Grace  smiled,  and  bade  Agnes  place  the 
book  on  the  table. 

“  I  declare,  Grace  Aguilar,”  Mrs.  Hall 
observed,  “  you  remind  me  of  a  very 
famous  Frenchwoman,  who  used  to  have 
literary  receptions  in  Paris,  and  received 
her  friends  just  as  you  do.  She  was 
obliged  by  illness  to  keep  her  room,  and  an 
elegant  alcove  was  arranged  in  a  large 
apartment  of  the  house,  and  there  her 
stately  bed  was  placed,  and  her  friends, 
literary  and  political,  thronged  to  see  her. 
She  was  the  celebrated  Madame  de  Ram- 
bouillet,  who  flourished  about  two  hundred 
years  ago,  and  founded  the  literary  salon. 
There  were  some  clever  women  who  visited 
her,  women  like  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery, 
Madame  de  Sevigne,  Madame  de  Lafay- 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


ette,  and  a  host  of  distinguished  men, 
authors,  and  statesmen  of  the  day.” 

“  Think  of  that,  Grace,”  Agnes  added, 
“  one  of  these  days  the  world  may  talk  of 
Mademoiselle  Aguilar’s  salonJ*  And  she 
made  a  profound  curtsy. 

Grace  pressed  her  hand  in  appreciation 
of  her  raillery,  and  soon  Mrs.  Hall  and 
Agnes  left,  both  rejoiced  at  their  friend’s 
recovery. 

It  was  the  end  of  November,  when  one 
morning  Mr.  Aguilar,  taking  Grace  on  his 
knee — she  was  now  better  and  did  her 
usual  duties  about  the  house  and  at  her 
books — said  to  her: 

“  I  have  news  for  you,  my  pet,  news  that 
will  surprise  you.” 

“  O  father,  are  you  going  away,  and  will 
mother  and  I  be  left  behind?  ” 

“  Yes,  I  am  going  away,  but  your  mother 
and  yourself  will  go  with  me.  What  do 
you  say  to  that?  ” 


122 


IN  THE  SHADOW 


“  And  where  shall  we  stay  this  time?  ” 
she  asked.  She  was  used  to  frequent  jour- 
neyings  with  her  parents. 

“  Well,  Grace,  Doctor  Van  Ullem  thinks 
that  you  need  an  entire  change  of  scene  and 
a  more  bracing  climate.  It  will  be  good  for 
you  and  for  me,  too,  for  my  cough  has 
begun  to  trouble  me  again.  He  recom¬ 
mends  that  we  go  to  Tavistock,  in  lovely 
Devonshire,  not  so  very  distant  from  Lon¬ 
don,  and  yet  far  enough  to  ensure  the 
change  that  you  require  to  restore  your 
health.  And  I  know  that  it  will  benefit  me 
greatly.” 

So  they  went  to  Devonshire,  to  a  pretty 
home  at  Tavistock,  surrounded  by  charm¬ 
ing  scenery,  which  filled  Grace  with  delight. 
And  here  her  life  continued  as  before, 
although  she  missed  her  three  girl  friends 
keenly. 

“  Never  mind,  Grace,”  Maud  assured 

her  on  parting,  “  you  will  come  to  the  old 

123 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 

/ 

farm  again  one  of  these  days,  and  we  shall 
resume  our  secret  gatherings.” 

“  Yes,  indeed,”  chimed  in  Sylvia,  “  and 
I  know  that  you  will  need  me  to  give  you 
invaluable  hints  as  to  making  an  omelet.” 

“  Do  not  worry,  Grace.  Aunt  and  I 
have  friends  near  Tavistock,  and  we  are 
fond  of  Devonshire  cream,  so  we  shall  not 
neglect  you.”  Agnes  spoke  comfortingly. 
“  Bark  and  jump  good-bye.  Nap !  ”  shouted 
Sylvia,  at  the  final  moment  of  leave-taking. 
And  Nap  was  so  noisily  obedient  that  his 
evident  gratification  at  his  part  in  the  cere¬ 
mony  prevented  more  sober  thoughts  and 
the  tears  that  might  have  been  shed  as  the 
Aguilars  drove  away  to  their  new  abode. 

Mrs.  Aguilar,  duly  aided  by  Grace,  soon 
had  the  new  home  in  perfect  order,  so  that 
it  had  an  attractive  appearance  when 
Hanukkah  came  amid  fast-falling  snow. 
There  was  deep  gratitude  in  that  affection¬ 
ate  household :  the  shadow  had  rolled 
away  for  a  time. 


124 


X 

A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 

The  early  days  of  Hanukkah  were 
shrouded  in  snow,  but  the  air  was  so  pure 
and  bracing  that  neither  Mr.  Aguilar  nor 
Grace  felt  the  slightest  discomfort  from 
the  weather.  Each  evening  he  had  lighted 
the  lights  and  sung  the  old  festival  melody. 
How  it  grew,  the  small  line  of  lights,  from 
day  to  day,  in  the  silver  Menorah,  which 
had  long  been  a  family  heirloom,  and 
might  tell  many  a  wondrous  story,  if  it 
could  only  speak,  of  its  thrilling  experiences 
in  Spain,  In  Portugal,  in  Italy  during  cen¬ 
turies  of  bitterness.  It  had  escaped  the 
sharp  eyes  of  the  Inquisition,  it  had  been 
hidden  carefully  from  discovery,  as  the 
weary  exiles  went  from  land  to  land  and 
across  inhospitable  seas.  And  now,  pol¬ 
ished  and  made  young  again,  it  shone  with 

125 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


a  gracious  splendor  on  that  scene  of  family 
peace  and  affection.  Blessed,  thrice  blessed 
our  historic  festival  of  light!  What 
warmth  and  happiness,  what  fervor  and 
devotion,  it  arouses  in  old  and  young! 

They  were  gathered  under  the  Menorah 
one  evening.  The  lights  warmly  beaming 
lighted  up  the  room.  Their  radiance  was 
sufficient,  for  no  one  wished  to  read.  Mr. 
Aguilar  had  told  Grace  that  it  was  to  be  a 
story  evening,  and  how  patiently  she  waited 
for  the  tale  to  begin ! 

“  Grace,  you  know  all  about  Hanukkah, 
of  course,  for  your  mother  and  I  have  read 
to  you  from  time  to  time  a  full  account 
of  the  festival  and  its  origin.”  Mr. 
Aguilar  paused. 

‘‘  Certainly,  father,  I  remember  all  about 
the  Maccabees,  father  and  sons,  and  how 
they  defeated  the  Syrian  tyrant,  captured 
the  Temple  from  their  enemies,  and  found 

the  little  jar  of  oil  that  lasted  the  week  of 

126 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


dedication.  I  shall  never  forget  the  brave 
deeds  of  Mattathias,  and  of  Judas,  his 
son.”  And  Grace  looked  earnestly  at  her 
father. 

“  Yes,  It  was  a  brave  deed  to  defeat  the 
tyrant  Antlochus — a  few  men  and  youths 
against  a  mighty  kingdom.  And  many 
tales  of  heroism  and  martyrdom  have  come 
down  to  us  from  those  distant  days,  tales 
that  are  full  of  meaning  for  us  even  on 
peaceful  English  soil.  One  of  these  I  shall 
tell  you  to-night,  while  the  Hanukkah 
lights  beam  so  brightly.  The  story  Is  taken 
from  a  work  called  the  Apocrypha,  a  series 
of  writings  that  date  from  a  period  later 
than  when  our  Holy  Scriptures  finally 
appeared  In  their  present  form.  The  word 
Apocrypha  Is  of  Greek  origin,  and  It  means 
‘  secret  ’  or  ‘  hidden.’  I  shall  tell  you  some 
other  time  about  the  history  of  our  Scrip¬ 
tures,  with  their  threefold  division  Into  the 

Law,  or  five  books  of  Moses,  the  Prophets, 

127 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  the  Sacred  Writings.  Now  for  the 
story.  Of  course,  I  shall  not  give  you  the 
exact  words  of  the  original  narrative.” 

Here  Mr.  Aguilar  paused.  His  wife 
raised  the  window  curtain  for  a  moment. 
The  sky  was  now  clear,  the  stars  were  like 
watchfires  in  the  heavens.  Then  she  stirred 
the  fast-dying  log  flame  on  the  hearth  until 
it  blazed  anew.  And  Grace  was  all  atten¬ 
tion  as  her  father  began. 

A  Jewish  Mother  of  the  Olden  Times 

Once  there  lived  a  Jewish  mother — you 
know  her  name — who  was  so  grateful  to 
God  for  giving  her  a  son  that  she  vowed 
he  should  become  a  servant  at  God’s  altar, 
and  she  brought  him  to  the  high  priest  to 
have  him  properly  taught.  And  now  you 
are  to  learn  of  another  mother  in  Israel 
who  lived — so  the  story  goes — many  cen¬ 
turies  later,  and  who  had  the  same  name, 

Hannah.  But  the  later  Hannah  had  seven 

128 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


sons,  whom  she  reared  in  loving  obedience 
to  the  law  of  God. 

Now,  while  the  Maccabees — ^what  a  gal¬ 
lant,  sturdy  line  of  heroes  they  were ! — 
were  battling  bravely  for  their  homes  and 
their  religion,  and  all  Palestine  was  a  scene 
of  war,  this  Jewish  mother  and  her  seven 
sons  were  brought  before  the  tyrant.  With¬ 
out  pity  he  compelled  them  all  to  suffer  the 
severest  torture,  because  they  refused  to 
obey  his  orders  and  despise  what  God  had 
commanded  them  and  their  ancestors. 

‘‘  Why  dost  thou  ask  us?  ”  the  eldest  son 
said  amid  dreadful  torments.  “  We  are 
ready  to  die  rather  than  break  the  laws  of 
our  fathers,  which  God  commanded  us  to 
obey.”  And  he  died  before  his  brethren 
urging  each  other  to  die  rather  than  submit 
like  cowards  to  the  tyrant. 

The  second  son  refused  to  eat  forbidden 
food,  though  threatened  with  tortures  simi¬ 
lar  to  those  he  had  witnessed.  In  the  agony 

129 


9 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


of  death  he  cried  out,  “  Thou  like  a  fury 
takest  us  out  of  this  life,  but  God  shall  raise 
us  up  who  have  died  for  His  laws  into  life 
everlasting.” 

Of  his  own  accord  the  third  son  stretched 
forth  his  limbs  for  the  torture,  saying, 
“  These  I  had  from  God,  and  for  His  law  I 
despise  them,  for  from  Him  I  expect  to 
receive  them  again.” 

With  similar  bravery  the  fourth  and 
fifth  sons  suffered  torment  at  the  hands  of 
the  tyrant’s  soldiers.  With  their  dying 
breath  they  assured  him  that  though  he  had 
power  over  men,  he  had  no  lasting  power 
over  Israel,  and  at  the  last  God’s  great 
power  would  torment  him  and  his  success¬ 
ors.  In  the  same  heroic  spirit  the  sixth  son 
met  a  lingering  death. 

Six  sons  perished  thus.  The  youngest- 
born  survived,  and  upon  him,  perhaps,  the 
mother’s  love  was  centred  most  of  all. 
Yet  she  addressed  him  calmly  at  this 

130 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


moment,  urging  him  not  to  fear  the  tor¬ 
mentor,  but  to  die  as  worthily  as  his  broth¬ 
ers  had  met  their  death.  While  she  was 
speaking,  the  son  said  to  the  tyrant’s  men: 
“  For  whom  are  you  waiting?  I  will  not 
obey  the  king’s  commands,  but  the  Law 
given  to  our  fathers.  Think  not  that  thou, 
the  author  of  all  this  mischief  against 
Israel,  shalt  escape  the  hands  of  God. 
Thou  shalt  receive  just  punishment  for  all 
thy  sins,  and  under  torture  thou  thyself 
shalt  confess  that  our  God  alone  is  God.” 

Enraged  at  his  words,  the  king  made 
him  suffer  the  severest  torments  of  all,  but 
he  died,  with  his  last  breath  repeating 
Israel’s  watchword,  the  Shemang,  “  Hear, 
O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God,  the  Lord  is 
One !  ”  All  those  who  stood  around  mar¬ 
velled  at  his  bravery. 

And  now  it  was  Hannah’s  turn,  the 
heroic  mother  of  heroic  sons.  She  had  wit¬ 
nessed  her  sons’  sufferings,  but  bore  all  with 

131 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


firm  courage.  She  had  urged  each  of  them 
to  endure  torture  rather  than  abandon  the 
faith  of  his  fathers.  With  clear  voice,  to 
inspire  them  with  resolute  endeavor,  she 
bade  them  be  strong  and  full  of  hope  in 
God’s  goodness  and  wisdom.  Then  she 
submitted  willingly  to  the  tyrant’s  cruel 
orders,  until  death,  kinder  than  he,  eased 
her  sufferings. 

One  by  one  the  Hanukkah  lights  had 
vanished  into  darkness,  and  when  Mr. 
Aguilar  ended  his  story,  the  only  glow  in 
the  room  was  from  the  hearth,  which  his 
wife  kept  well  supplied  with  flaming  logs. 

“  Well,  Grace,”  Mr.  Aguilar  exclaimed, 
“  that  was  a  rather  short  story,  was  it  not? 
But  I  wanted  to  have  a  little  time  for  a  chat 
about  Hanukkah,  our  Festival  of  Dedica¬ 
tion.  Now,  have  you  any  questions  to  ask, 
my  daughter?  ” 

Yes,  father,  about  the  bottle  of  oil. 

132 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


How  could  so  small  a  quantity  last  so  many 
days  for  the  lamps  in  the  Temple?  ” 

“  There  are  various  explanations,  my 
child,  as  to  the  lighting  of  the  lights,  with¬ 
out  any  reference  to  the  bottle  of  oil.  As 
to  that  legend,  it  is,  indeed,  difficult  to 
account  for  the  origin  of  such  traditions. 
In  fact,  when  we  try  to  explain  them,  our 
explanation  is  less  natural  than  the  wonder¬ 
ful  incident  related.  Perhaps  the  oil  was 
so  pure  and  fine  that  it  lasted  longer  than  a 
coarser  quality  would  have  done.  Then, 
too,  you  must  understand,  it  was  not  used 
for  all  the  lamps  in  the  Temple,  but  only 
for  those  in  the  Menorah,  or  sacred  lamp.” 

“  That  seems  a  rather  good  explanation, 
Emanuel,”  Mrs.  Aguilar  observed.  “  But 
how  about  the  traditional  lights?  Were 
they  always  lighted  within  the  house,  as 
we  light  them  ?  ” 

“  We  have  a  more  wonderful  religion 

than  we  really  imagine,  and  to  my  mind  its 

133 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


special  quality  is  the  courage  it  demands 
from  its  followers,  the  resolute  sense  of 
conviction  it  indicates.” 

“What  do  you  mean,  father?”  Grace 
asked.  “  I  really  do  not  understand  you.” 

“  You  know,  dear,  how  God  commanded 
our  fathers  in  Egypt  to  sprinkle  the  blood 
of  a  lamb  on  their  door-posts.  That  was 
to  be  a  sign  of  their  fearlessness  as  much 
as  anything  else.  By  the  act  they  made 
known  to  their  neighbors  that  they  were 
not  afraid  to  be  Israelites  openly.  And 
nowadays  the  Mezuzzah  on  the  portals  of 
our  homes,  and  the  open  door  at  a  certain 
part  of  the  Passover  night  household  serv¬ 
ice,  are  no  less  signs  of  courage  and  con¬ 
viction.  The  Hanukkah  lamps  were  not 
originally  to  light  up  the  house  within,  but 
to  illuminate  It  without,  so  that  passers-by 
should  see  and  reflect  that,  where  they  are 
burning,  is  a  Jewish  dwelling.  You  can 
thus  realize  the  lofty  purpose  of  the  Institu¬ 
tion  of  the  Hanukkah  lights.” 

134 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


“  O  father,”  Grace  exclaimed,  “  you  do 
make  things  so  clear  to  me  that  I  love  to 
have  you  explain  matters.” 

“  There  is  still  another  interesting  fact 
connected  with  the  Hanukkah  light,”  he 
continued  after  giving  vigorous  attention 
to  the  fire  on  the  hearth.  “  It  was  held  that 
no  work,  not  even  reading,  was  to  be  done 
by  its  glow.  Hence,  to  pass  away  the  even¬ 
ings,  a  number  of  amusements  were  Intro¬ 
duced,  with  riddles  and  games.  A  popular 
toy  was  the  tee-totum,  or  top,  called  by  the 
German  Jews  Trendel,  which  was  spun 
upon  the  table,  and  gave  great  delight  to 
the  children.” 

“  Oh,  do  tell  me  more  about  the  Tren¬ 
del.” 

“  This  toy  was  a  die  In  the  shape  of  a 
revolving  top,  on  whose  four  sides  were 
marked  the  Hebrew  letters,  gimmel,  to 
stand  for  ganz,  or  all ;  hay,  for  halb,  that  Is, 

half;  nun,  for  nichts,  nothing,  and  shin,  for 

135 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


stell,  put,  which  indicated  the  result  of 
each  play  of  the  top.  The  word  Trendel 
itself  is  derived  from  the  German  drehen, 
to  turn.” 

“  Father,  could  you  tell  us  about  the 
Hanukkah  hymn?  Is  it  so  very  old?  ” 

“I  am  glad  you  asked  that  question, 
Grace.  The  hymn  Maoz  Zur  goes  back 
probably  five  or  six  hundred  years,  and 
its  melody,  which  is  that  of  an  old  German 
folk  song,  is  popular  in  all  countries.  Only 
a  few  years  ago  one  of  Byron’s  poems,  ‘  On 
Jordan’s  Banks,’  was  set  to  this  tune  by  a 
musician  whom  I  knew,  Isaac  Nathan. 
But,  Grace,  tell  me,  did  you  like  the  story 
of  Hannah?  You  have  not  asked  about  it 
at  all.  Perhaps  it  was  too  serious  for 
you.” 

“  Father,”  she  rejoined  slowly,  “  I  wish 
I  could  write  about  that  mother  and  her 
seven  sons.  I  wish  I  could  tell  the  world 

some  day  about  their  heroism,”  and,  kiss- 

136 


A  HANUKKAH  NIGHT 


ing  her  parents,  she  went  to  her  room.  But 
it  was  long  before  she  could  sleep.  The 
story  of  Hannah,  told  so  thrillingly  by  her 
father,  stirred  her  imagination.  What  a 
lesson,  she  thought,  for  the  women  of 
Israel  I  What  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the 
Jewish  faith  I  When  she  grew  older,  why 
should  she  not  write  about  Hannah,  so  that 
her  own  people  as  well  as  those  of  a  differ¬ 
ent  creed  might  be  taught  a  needed  lesson 
In  heroism?  The  entire  scene  was  acted 
anew  In  her  vivid  fancy — the  dreadful 
tyrant,  the  rough  soldiers,  the  cruel  instru¬ 
ments  of  torture,  the  fearful  mob,  and  the 
gentle,  uncomplaining  martyrs  themselves, 
each  In  the  death  torture. 

“  Why,  Grace,  not  asleep  yet?  ”  Mrs. 
Aguilar  said  in  surprise,  when  she  entered 
the  room  and  found  Grace  with  wide  open 
eyes.  “  It  was  that  exciting  story,  was  It 
not,  my  daughter?  ” 

“  Come,  kiss  me,  mother,  and  I’ll  go  to 

137 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


sleep,  really  and  truly.  But  as  to  tliat  story, 
I  shall  tell  it  one  of  these  days.  Good 
night,  dear  I  ” 

And  so  she  did,  not  many  years  later. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  stirring  and  eloquent 
chapters  she  ever  wrote. 


138 


XI 

A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


Dublin,  January  7,  1829. 
My  dearest  Grace: — 

You  can  imagine  that  I  have  had  little 
time  to  myself  in  lovely  Dublin  since 
Christmas,  but  I  snatch  the  first  moment 
of  leisure — or  shall  I  call  it  distraction? — 
to  write  to  you.  I  was  rejoiced  to  hear 
from  your  good  mother  that  you  were 
thoroughly  well  again  in  your  pretty  home. 
I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  get  to  Devon,  to 
make  your  parents  lend  you  to  me  for  a 
few  days  in  London,  when  I  return  to  my 
quarters  in  Tavistock  Square,  if  not  in 
Tavistock,  Devonshire. 

I  do  love  the  Irish.  Do  you  know  that 
English  is  spoken  better  in  cultivated  circles 

here  than  in  London?  I  am  in  earnest.  It 

139 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


is  a  common  notion  that  your  Irishman 
swings  his  brogue  like  a  shillelah,  and  is 
fond  of  bringing  in  his  colleen  bairn  and 
potheen  and  other  Hibernianisms.  For 
real,  smooth,  velvety  English  commend  me 
to  an  educated  Irishman.  And  how  about 
Tom  Moore?  There’s  a  darling  for  you. 
If  you  want  to  hear  songs  that  are  songs, 
you  must  let  me  take  you  to  Tom  Moore, 
with  his  “  Oft,  in  the  Stilly  Night.” 

I  hope  you  are  not  writing  much.  Just 
take  in  all  you  can.  Learn,  observe,  but  do 
not  write  for  some  years  to  come.  Wait, 
dear  heart,  until  certain  things  happen  to 
me.  There  is  a  chance  of  my  editing  an 
art  magazine,  and  I  shall  always  bear  you 
in  mind,  that  is,  when  you  are  grown  up, 
my  little  girl.  Keep  up  your  Jewish  studies. 
You  will  surely  come  across  fine  material 
for  some  thrilling  tales.  I  should  think 
that  you  could  find  many  a  theme  in  the 

dreadful  fate  of  the  Spanish  exiles.  And 

140 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


you  could  write  with  so  much  feeling  and 
enthusiasm,  being  yourself,  as  your  kind 
father  once  told  me,  a  descendant  from 
those  unfortunate  people.  But  it  must  be 
thrilling.  The  public  wants  to  be  thrilled, 
not  taught.  There  is  little  demand  in  the 
literary  market  for  plain,  everyday  food. 
Things  must  be  highly  seasoned  to  suit  the 
popular  taste. 

Am  I  writing  too  seriously  for  you? 
Well,  let  me  tell  you  something  else.  There 
are  two  lovely  children  here,  my  husband’s 
niece  and  nephew,  whom  you  would  declare 
the  dearest  children  in  the  world.  They 
love  to  watch  me  as  I  write,  and  as  I  throw 
each  page  when  finished  on  the  floor,  a 
rather  bad  habit,  they  run  to  pick  it  up,  as 
if  they  were  helping  me  greatly.  That  was 
always  Agnes’s  task  in  her  childhood  days 
— to  keep  my  desk  and  papers  in  due  order. 

I  quite  forgot  to  tell  you,  for  my  pen  is 

as  uncertain  as  a  jaunting-car,  that  I  met 

141 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Mr.  Montefiore  before  leaving  London. 
He  inquired  after  you,  and  expressed  the 
hope  that  your  parents  would  bring  you  to 
see  him  and  his  wife  before  he  starts  on 
his  next  journey  to  Jerusalem.  He  was 
accompanied  by  David  Salomon,  who,  it  is 
said,  wants  to  enter  Parliament.  Just  think, 
only  because  they  are  of  the  Jewish  faith 
men  like  Montefiore  and  his  friend  cannot 
become  members  of  the  House.  I  believe 
that  the  walls  of  prejudice  will  ere  long  be 
battered  down. 

I  came  across  a  pretty  German  poem  the 
other  day,  written  by  a  new  poet,  Heine. 
I  wish  I  could  have  met  him  on  his  recent 
brief  visit  to  England.  Here  is  a  good 
translation  of  the  poem  by  a  friend  of  mine, 
but  not  so  musical  as  the  original: 

Thou  seemest  like  a  flower, 

So  pure  and  fair  and  bright; 

A  melancholy  yearning 

Steals  o’er  me  at  thy  sight. 

142 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


Could  I  but  lay  in  blessing 
My  hands  upon  thy  hair, 

Imploring  God  to  keep  thee 
So  bright  and  pure  and  fair! 

And  now,  dearest  child,  I  must  close,  or 
double  postage  will  have  to  be  paid,  no 
trifling  matter  nowadays.  It  is  costly 
enough  to  write  a  letter.  Mr.  Hall  prophe¬ 
sies  penny  postage  all  over  the  kingdom 
before  the  next  century.  Do  answer 
promptly,  and  tell  me  when  I  can  bring 
you  to  London.  Agnes  has  just  left  here 
for  home.  She  will  write  to  you. 
Affectionately, 

Anna  Maria  Hall. 

London,  January  6,  1829. 
Dearest  and  Best  Friend: — 

You  cannot  tell,  Gracie,  how  we  miss 
you.  Even  Nap  is  growing  melancholy. 
Maud  has  lost  much  of  her  humor;  and 
Agnes — why,  I  cannot  understand  her  at 

all.  She  mopes  for  hours.  Fortunately 

143 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


she  spent  the  holiday  week  with  her  aunt, 
Mrs.  Hall,  in  Dublin,  and  that  will 
brighten  her  a  bit.  So  we  may  look  for 
the  old  sensible  Agnes  on  her  return. 

Now  as  to  news.  We  formed  a  sewing 
circle  before  the  holidays.  Just  think  of 
that,  Maud,  Agnes,  and  I  form  the  “  Clover 
Leaf,”  that  is  its  name,  and  we  sew  for  the 
poor.  My  cousin  Jack  says  that  it  is  bad 
enough  to  be  poor,  but  to  be  obliged  to 
wear  the  garments  we  sew  is  a  double 
calamity.  What  horrid  things  cousins  are — 
sometimes !  So  far  we  have  not  completed 
a  single  garment,  but  we  have  collected 
plenty  of  material,  and  shall  go  to  work  at 
our  next  weekly  meeting,  as  soon  as  Agnes 
returns. 

Our  first  meeting  was  a  great  success.  It 
was  a  kind  of  business  meeting.  We  do 
not  pay  any  dues,  but  our  parents  will  sup¬ 
ply  us  with  goods,  and  we  shall  do  the  cut¬ 
ting  out  and  the  sewing.  Well,  after  talking 

144 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


a  good  deal,  and  planning  what  kind  of 
garments  we  were  to  prepare,  we  adjourned 
to  the  dining-room,  and  had  a  fine  omelet, 
which  I  made,  and  some  delicious  cake, 
which  my  mother  helped  me  make — that 
is  to  say,  she  did  the  mixing  and  the  baking, 
and  I  watched  the  oven.  Maud  wanted  to 
help  me  with  the  omelet,  but  I  would  not 
let  her.  Was  I  not  right?  Nap  is  so 
handy  in  running  after  bits  of  thread  that 
we  have  elected  him  an  associate  member 
of  our  circle.  My  cousin  Jack  pleaded 
piteously  to  be  made  a  member.  I  felt 
sorry  for  him,  for  he  had  tears  in  his  eyes 
when  we  told  him  that  it  was  impossible. 
I  think  we  may  make  him  packer  and 
expressman,  but  as  he  cannot  sew  or  em¬ 
broider,  he  Is  out  of  place  at  our  meetings. 
Do  you  not  think  so? 

Well,  that  Is  about  all  the  news.  The 
girls  say  that  my  omelets  are  Improving  in 

color  and  lightness.  Wish  I  could  send  you 

145 


lO 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


one  by  her  Majesty’s  post  Good-bye. 
Write  at  once  to 

Sylvia. 

P.  S. — Maud  told  me  that  my  cousin 
Jack  was  only  pretending  to  be  sorry,  that 
he  could  not  join  the  Clover  Leaf.  He  had 
rubbed  an  onion  on  his  hand,  and  that 
caused  the  tears.  Are  they  not  wretches^ — 
those  dreadful  cousins? 

London,  January  9,  1829. 
My  dearest  Grace: — 

All  the  members  of  our  club  agreed  to 
write  to  you.  We  appointed  Sylvia  a  com¬ 
mittee  of  one  to  tell  you  all  about  the  club. 
So  I  have  precious  little  to  write.  I  think 
Sylvia  was  very,  very  mean  not  to  let  me 
help  her  make  the  omelet,  and  I  am  posi¬ 
tively  glad  that  her  cousin  Jack  likes  to 
tease  her.  I  think  cousins  are  the  best 
things  In  the  world,  and  I  only  wish  I  had 

one.  Sylvia’s  cousin  Jack  said  that  he 

146 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


would  be  a  cousin  to  me,  but  how  can  that 
be?  He  might  as  well  say  that  he  would 
be  my  grandmother. 

I  received  a  number  of  pretty  presents 
for  Christmas — a  soft  woolen  shawl  from 
my  mother,  two  books  from  my  father,  a 
little  satchel  from  my  sister,  a  beautiful 
mother-of-pearl  penknife  from  Sylvia’s 
cousin  Jack,  and  many  other  things  from 
friends,  such  as  ribbons,  a  box  of  candy,  a 
scrap  book,  and  so  on. 

It  must  be  lovely  in  Devonshire.  Sylvia’s 
cousin  Jack  said  he  went  to  boarding-school 
there,  but  they  gave  him  so  much  cream 
that  he  had  a  dreadful  fever,  and  so  they 
sent  him  home.  Poor  boy  I  I  never  heard 
of  cream  causing  a  fever,  but  he  assured 
me  that  it  was  so.  Sylvia  said  that  he  was 
only  jesting  with  me,  and  the  real  cause  of 
his  being  sent  home  was  because  he  would 
not  study  his  lessons,  and  it  had  nothing  to 
do  with  Devonshire  cream.  And  she  added. 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


that,  if  I  had  known  him  as  long  as  she 
had,  I  should  not  believe  a  single  word  he 
said.  I  think  you  would  like  Sylvia’s 
cousin  Jack.  He  is  fond  of  poetry,  and 
when  he  repeats  it,  he  rolls  his  eyes  just 
like  an  actor.  He  said  that  one  of  the  best 
actors  in  London  taught  him  how  to  recite. 

Now,  Grace,  do  not  forget  to  write  soon 
and  tell  me  how  you  are  getting  along. 

Affectionately, 

Maud. 

P.  S. — ^We  may  elect  you  an  honorary 
member  of  our  club  at  our  next  regular 
meeting.  Sylvia’s  cousin  Jack  thinks  that 
our  meetings  are  all  irregular,  because  we 
have  no  constitution,  whatever  that  means. 

London,  January  12,  1829. 

Arrah,  Gracie,  my  darlint!  I  have  just 
returned  from  Dublin,  where  I  had  a  per¬ 
fectly  delightful  time  with  a  lady  whom 

you  know  very  well,  mavourneen.  Her 

148 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


name  is  Anna  Maria  Hall,  and  she  loves 
you  quite  as  much  as  she  loves  me. 

And  how  is  my  Devonshire  lass,  and 
does  she  pine  for  her  friends  of  the  magic 
circle,  now  become  the  Clover  Leaf?  Does 
she  remember  the  beautiful  times  we  had 
together,  and  the  plans  we  cherished,  ach 
hone,  ach  hone! 

If  I  continue  in  this  strain,  dear  friend, 
you  will  think  that  I  have  become  Irish 
entirely.  It  is  certainly  a  happy  race, 
despite  the  great  poverty  that  is  seen  even 
in  Dublin  with  its  palaces  and  churches,  its 
broad  squares  and  parks,  its  shops  and 
warehouses.  And  how  friendly  the  people, 
always  ready  for  a  chat  or  a  laugh,  and  now 
and  then  a  fight  in  the  open  roadway  I 

You  would  have  enjoyed  our  jaunting- 
car  experiences.  We  went  out — that  is, 
aunt  and  I — to  a  little  town  about  six  or 
seven  miles  from  Dublin.  Every  stone  on 

the  way  had  a  history,  every  heap  of  rocks 

149 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


a  story  to  tell.  There  was  not  a  ditch  that 
had  not  been  the  scene  of  former  glories. 
There  were  ghosts  In  the  elm  yonder  and 
the  lake  opposite,  and  mysterious  happen¬ 
ings  in  each  brokendown  shanty  that 
crossed  the  path.  At  least  Andy,  the 
driver,  said  so,  and  he  ought  to  know.  If 
an  owl  screeched  “God  save  us  I”  he 
cried,  crossing  himself.  If  a  blackbird 
flew  aloft,  “  Lord  have  mercy!  ”  was  his 
exclamation.  It  ought  to  have  been  called 
a  jolting  car,  because  many  were  the  jolts 
it  gave  us,  and  that  night  we  found  our 
beds  softer  than  swansdown,  we  poor 
weary  travellers,  after  the  day’s  jaunting 
and  jolting. 

My  aunt  introduced  me  to  a  fine  Irish 
poet  and  writer,  Samuel  Lover.  He  read 
us  some  of  his  stories,  which  are  as  rol¬ 
licking  as  the  wheels  of  our  jaunting-car. 
I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him  sing  one 

of  his  own  Irish  songs.  It  is  grand  to  be 

150 


# 


A  BATCH  OF  LETTERS 


a  writer  after  all.  One  of  his  poems  is  on 
“  How  to  Ask  and  Have.”  A  girl’s  sweet¬ 
heart  said  to  her,  “  Mary,  it  is  time  I 
spoke  to  your  mother.”  “  No,  no,”  she 
replied,  “  she  will  never  consent.”  “  Well, 
then,  what  if  I  speak  to  your  father?” 
“  No,  no,”  came  the  answer,  “  he  is  cruel.” 
The  poem — he  gave  me  a  copy — closes 
with  these  lines : 


“Then  how  shall  I  get  you,  my  jewel, 
Sweet  Mary  ?  ”  says  I. 

“  If  your  father  and  mother’s  so  cruel, 
Most  surely  I’ll  die !” 

“  Oh,  never  say  die,  dear,’’  says  Mary, 

“  A  way  now  to  save  you  I  see. 
Since  my  parents  are  both  so  contrary — 
You’d  better  ask  me/* 


Now,  I  have  certainly  written  a  lively  let¬ 
ter,  Gracie,  my  darlint,  my  acushla  and 
mavourneen  and  everything  else.  It  is  so 
good  to  talk  to  you  by  post,  but  not  so 
good  as  to  talk  to  you  face  to  face,  you 

girl  of  girls  and  honorary  member  of  the 

151 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Clover  Leaf  I  There,  that  should  have 
been  a  secret  until  the  next  regular  meeting. 
Good-bye,  dearest  Grace  I  Best  love  to 
your  parents,  and  do  not  forget  to  write 
soon. 

Everlastingly  your  friend, 

Agnes. 


162 


XII 

DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 

The  Agullars  found  their  home  at  Tavis¬ 
tock  so  healthful  and  agreeable  that  they 
looked  forward  to  a  long  stay,  and  hoped 
that  their  wanderings  were  over.  The  beau¬ 
tiful  scenery,  attractive  at  all  seasons  of 
the  year,  grew  upon  them  more  and  more. 
It  is  true,  the  winter  was  extremely  severe, 
but  it  was  a  dry  kind  of  cold,  which,  being 
continuous,  acted  as  a  bracing  tonic.  Both 
Mr.  Aguilar  and  Grace  improved  rapidly 
in  their  new  surroundings,  gaining  appre¬ 
ciably  in  weight  and  color.  How  the  wife 
and  mother  rejoiced! 

The  weeks  passed  without  any  startling 
incident.  A  quiet,  regular  life  was  theirs, 
without  much  variety,  and  Grace  became 
accustomed  to  the  absence  of  her  three 
friends,  which  at  first  was  somewhat  of  a 

trial  for  her.  Little  by  little  her  parents 

153 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


made  changes  in  her  studies,  or  added  to 
them,  as  they  noticed  how  her  mind  was 
steadily  maturing.  Music  became  a  favor¬ 
ite  relaxation,  and  in  embroidery  she  showed 
much  patience  and  skill.  Her  work  was  so 
admirably  arranged  that  it  never  became  a 
strain  or  hardship,  while  she  enjoyed  fre¬ 
quent  long  walks  in  all  kinds  of  weather, 
chiefly  with  her  father  as  companion. 

Mr.  Aguilar  covered  much  ground  in 
his  Saturday  readings  to  his  daughter. 
Libraries,  books,  and  magazines  were  few 
compared  with  such  opportunities  decades 
later.  He  had,  however,  a  richly  stored 
mind,  and  his  own  private  library,  though 
small,  contained  books  of  no  little  value. 
He  had  now  reached  selections  from  the 
works  of  Josephus,  which  did  much  to 
awaken  her  interest  in  Jewish  history  in  the 
centuries  after  the  close  of  the  Biblical 
period.  He  knew  how  to  adapt  or  change 

the  author’s  words  when  necessary,  and 

164 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


gave  only  some  of  the  most  striking  narra¬ 
tives  from  the  writer  who  took  so  prominent 
a  part  in  the  war  against  the  Romans,  and 
who  lived  later  among  them  in  peace  and 
honor,  calling  himself  Flavius  after  the 
line  of  Emperors  that  had  conquered 
Jerusalem. 

“  It  is  a  strange  circumstance,  Grace,” — 
Mr.  Aguilar  often  talked  to  his  daughter 
as  if  she  were  years  older — “  how  Josephus 
was  enabled  to  become  a  champion  of  his 
people  even  in  his  exile.” 

“  How  so,  father?  ” 

“You  might  have  thought  it  cowardly 
on  his  part  to  surrender  to  the  Romans  and 
live  in  safety  and  comfort  among  them, 
when  so  many  of  his  countrymen  sought 
death  gladly  rather  than  submit  to  their 
rule.  But  Josephus  was  far-sighted.  He 
knew  that  Judea  was  too  weak  a  nation  to 
resist  Rome  for  any  length  of  time;  so, 

after  fighting  bravely  in  its  behalf  and  find- 

155 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


ing  all  chances  of  success  hopeless,  he 
became,  partly  owing  to  quarrels  among 
the  Jewish  leaders,  a  prisoner  of  his  own 
accord.  Rejoiced  at  capturing  so  distin¬ 
guished  a  man,  the  Romans  treated  him 
kindly,  and  gave  him  every  privilege  in 
Rome. 

“  And  now,”  Mr.  Aguilar  continued, 
“  comes  the  curious  circumstance  that,  an 
exile  and  a  captive,  Josephus  was  as  great 
a  champion  of  Israel  as  when  he  led  an 
army  against  Rome.  His  works  contain 
more  than  history.  They  aided  in  teaching 
the  ancient  world,  nearly  two  thousand 
years  ago,  what  the  Jewish  religion  really 
was.  Thus  they  are  a  sturdy  defense,  a 
brilliant  vindication  of  the  Jew  in  an  era 
when  he  had  no  advocate  in  his  weakness 
and  helplessness.  The  educated  reader  In 
those  days  could  not  but  gain  a  wholly  dif¬ 
ferent  idea  of  our  people  as  now  their 
wonderful  laws,  now  their  magnificent 

156 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


courage,  now  the  deeds  and  character  of 
their  famous  men  and  women,  and  now  the 
prominent  part  they  played  in  spreading 
knowledge  of  the  One  God,  were  revealed 
in  the  historian’s  entertaining  and  fascinat¬ 
ing  chapters.  With  all  their  faults,  the 
Romans  must  have  had  the  virtue  of  toler¬ 
ation  In  strong  measure  to  permit  such  reso¬ 
lute  championship  from  a  fallen  foe.  And 
Josephus  went  so  far  as  to  show  how  a 
queen  and  a  king,  powerful  and  honored, 
could  become  Jewess  and  Jew.” 

“  Please  tell  me  about  It,  father.  I  did 
not  know  such  a  thing  was  possible.” 

“  It  Is  a  fact,  my  daughter,  that  a  queen, 
eminent  In  her  day,  Helena  of  Adlabene, 
and  her  son,  a  king  of  the  same  country, 
Izates,  both  adopted  the  Jewish  religion  in 
the  first  century  of  the  common  era,  and 
took  great  pleasure  In  observing  Its  rites 
and  customs.  Let  me  read  you  a  selection 

from  Josephus,  which  tells  about  this  inci- 

157 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


dent.  Of  course,  I  shall  not  follow  him 
word  for  word,  but  condense  here  and 
there.  It  is  from  his  *  Antiquities  ’ : 

“  ‘  Now,  when  Helena  saw  that  all 
things  were  favorable  at  home,  she  wished 
to  go  to  Jerusalem  to  worship  and  offer 
thanksgiving  in  its  famous  temple.  Her 
son,  the  king,  gladly  consented  to  the  jour¬ 
ney,  and  he  went  with  her  part  of  the  way, 
and  gave  her  a  large  amount  of  money.  It 
was  very  fortunate  that  she  came,  for  a 
severe  famine  was  then  raging  in  the  land, 
and  many  died  from  want  of  food.  She 
sent  some  of  her  servants  to  buy  corn  at 
Alexandria,  and  also  to  secure  a  cargo  of 
dried  figs  at  Cyprus.  As  soon  as  they 
returned,  she  gave  freely  of  the  food  to 
the  needy,  while  Izates,  having  been  told  of 
the  distress,  forwarded  generous  sums  of 
money  for  the  sufferers.  In  later  years  both 
Helena  and  her  son  were  buried  near 
Jerusalem.’ 


168 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


“  I  may  add,”  Mr.  Aguilar  continued, 
“  many  of  their  subjects  fought  under  the 
Jewish  flag  in  the  struggle  against  the 
Romans.” 

On  another  Sabbath  he  told  Grace  about 
the  siege  of  Jotapata,  a  rocky  fortress 
town,  which,  in  the  war  with  Rome, 
long  resisted  the  attacks  of  the  army  of 
Vespasian,  the  Roman  general,  and  which 
Josephus  himself  defended  at  the  head  of  a 
handful  of  heroic  men.  The  story  forms 
one  of  the  most  spirited  episodes  In  his 
work.  And  as  her  father  told  her  in 
simple  words  the  incidents  of  the  conflict, 
often  a  hand-to-hand  encounter,  her  eyes 
flashed  with  pride  at  the  recital  of  such 
dauntless  bravery  displayed  by  mere  towns¬ 
people,  not  trained  soldiers,  against  the 
disciplined  Roman  forces! 

Attack  after  attack  met  defeat,  the  Jews 
vainly  hoping  for  aid  from  the  Parthlans, 

the  Romans’  bitterest  foes,  and  being 

159 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


weakened,  too,  by  unfortunate  dissensions 
within  their  own  ranks.  Despairing  at  last 
of  capturing  the  place  by  similar  assaults, 
Vespasian  erected  one  hundred  and  sixty 
catapults,  huge  engines  from  which  stones 
and  heavy  weapons  and  darts  and  fire  were 
hurled  Into  the  doomed  town.  But  the  des¬ 
perate  Jewish  soldiers  checked  the  Romans, 
destroyed  many  of  their  deadly  weapons  of 
attack,  and  raised  the  town  wall,  which 
protected  the  defenders  In  a  very  ingenious 
way.  Hides  of  fresh-stripped  oxen  were 
extended  over  hedge  poles  rammed  Into 
the  walls,  and  these  furnished  good  defense, 
as  the  walls  were  raised  to  forty  feet. 

Grace  followed  these  details  attentively, 
and  her  Interest  was  still  further  Increased 
when  she  was  told  of  the  gradual  working 
forward  of  the  Romans’  powerful  batter¬ 
ing  ram,  at  whose  first  blow  the  wall  quaked 
amid  the  city’s  lamentations.  But  Jose¬ 
phus,  quick  to  meet  the  danger,  suspended 

160 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


large  bags  filled  with  chaff,  which  weakened 
the  repeated  blows  of  the  battering  ram. 
Then  one  valiant  soldier,  Eleazer  by  name, 
bravely  mounted  the  wall  and  hurled  a 
heavy  stone  against  the  machine,  breaking 
its  head.  Jumping  down,  he  seized  the 
head,  and  bore  it  to  the  wall,  where  he  held 
it  aloft.  The  arrows  whizzed  around  him, 
and  he  was  pierced  by  five  of  them,  being 
wholly  without  armor.  On  another  day, 
while  the  Romans  were  advancing  in  close 
ranks,  Josephus  ordered  hot  oil  to  be 
poured  upon  the  enemy,  who  soon  gave 
way. 

And  did  the  place  surrender  at  last?  ” 
Grace  asked. 

“  The  Romans,  with  their  sixty  thousand 
men  against  a  few  thousand  defenders,  had 
spent  forty-seven  days  on  the  siege,”  her 
father  replied,  “  and  were  puzzled  at  the 
heroic  defense.  But  the  end  came,  and 

through  treachery.  A  deserter  entered  the 

161 


II 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Roman  camp,  and  offered  to  lead  the  enemy 
into  the  city  at  an  hour  when  the  defenders 
were  at  rest.  In  a  few  minutes  the  foe  was 
in  the  centre  of  Jotapata,  unheard  and 
unnoticed.  Short  and  bloody  was  the  con¬ 
flict  then.  The  Romans  spared  only  the 
women  and  children,  and  the  town  was 
razed  to  the  ground.”  Mr.  Aguilar  ceased. 

“  It  was  too  bad,  father,  that  there 
should  have  been  a  deserter  in  Israel.  What 
a  dreadful  thing  to  act  the  traitor !  Other¬ 
wise  the  town  might  have  been  saved.” 

“  I  fear  not,  my  daughter.  Think  of  the 
conditions  that  faced  the  defenders.  All 
food  and  water  supplies  were  cut  off,  and 
the  defense  could  not  have  held  out  much 
longer  against  the  fresh  accessions  to  the 
Roman  camp.  Besides,  the  Jews  were  not 
united;  they  had  their  bitter  quarrels.  Ah, 
if  Israel  had  always  stood  together  as  a 
people,  with  one  aim  and  one  ambition,  its 
history  would  be  far  more  glorious.  It  has 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


always  had  two  foes  to  contend  with:  the 
foe  from  without,  Babylon,  Rome,  Syria, 
and  the  modern  nations,  and  the  foe  from 
within,  the  deserters  in  its  own  ranks,  who 
have  done  more  harm,  as  Holy  Writ  says, 
^  Thy  destroyers  and  those  who  lay  thee 
waste,  shall  come  forth  from  thee.’  But 
enough  in  this  strain!  In  happy  England 
we  have  rest,  and  need  not  dwell  too  much 
upon  the  ages  of  terror.” 

There  could  have  been  no  happier  and 
more  successful  method  of  inspiring  Grace 
with  interest  in  history  as  well  as  of  increas¬ 
ing  her  love  for  Israel.  From  those  days 
dated  her  fondness  for  the  study  of  his¬ 
tory,  and  many  a  plan  was  developing 
slowly  but  surely  in  her  mind,  which  was 
to  be  realized  in  the  coming  years. 

No  less  valuable  was  the  way  in  which 
Mr.  Aguilar  strove  to  explain  the  meaning 
and  history  of  our  traditional  prayers, 
which  make  the  old  prayer  book  a  treasure 
house  of  wisdom. 


163 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


“  Now,  understand,  Grace,  ours  is  a 
prayer  book  not  for  one  person  or  one 
congregation  or  one  country,  but  for  the 
whole  community  of  Israel  wherever  scat¬ 
tered,  rich  or  poor,  large  or  small.  It 
reflects  their  hopes  and  repeats  their  peti¬ 
tions,  and,  to  single  out  one  quality  of  theirs. 
It  reveals  their  unfaltering  trust  In  the 
Almighty.” 

“  ‘  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  Him,’  ”  Grace  Interrupted.  “  That  Is 
one  of  my  dearest  forget-me-nots  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,”  she  added,  unconscious  of  the  part 
which  the  verse  would  play  In  the  history 
of  her  life. 

“  The  trait  of  trustfulness,”  said  her 
father,  “  was  wonderfully  shown  one  day 
In  the  early  Middle  Ages  In  France.  I 
think  It  was  in  a  town  called  Blols,  where 
a  number  of  our  ancestors  were  put  to 
death  by  the  Infuriated  mob.  Men,  women, 

and  children  were  all  led  to  the  stake ;  and, 

164 


DEVONSHIRE  DAYS 


as  they  moved  along  to  the  place  of  torture, 
they  did  not  piteously  beg  for  mercy  or 
offer  to  give  up  their  religion,  but  sturdily 
and  unfalteringly  they  repeated  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  beautiful  petitions  in  the 
prayer  book,  the  Alenu  prayer,  wherein  we 
deem  it  our  duty  to  praise  God  for  the  task 
which  He  has  enjoined  upon  us — to  pro¬ 
claim  His  unity  and  to  hope  for  the  dawn 
of  the  day  when  the  nations  and  the  creeds 
shall  acknowledge  Him  in  holy  brother¬ 
hood.  Whenever  I  repeat  that  short  and 
simple  prayer,  Grace,  the  scene  in  France 
is  before  my  eyes.  Those  mothers  and 
fathers  of  ours  not  only  said  their  prayers, 
they  felt  them  and  lived  them,  and  could 
die  with  their  prayers  on  their  lips.  It  is 
wonderful,  wonderful,  Grace.” 

I  think,  father,”  Grace  remarked  after 
a  brief  pause,  “  I  think  our  trustfulness  is 
also  shown  in  the  last  two  verses  of  our 
hymn  Adon  01am.  They  have  always 

165 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


seemed  to  me  very  beautiful,  and  I  have 
tried  to  put  them  into  English.  Here  are 
two  lines : 

I  place  my  spirit  in  His  mighty  power 

Both  in  my  sleeping  and  my  waking  hour; 

Body  and  spirit  then  are  to  Thee  near. 

With  God  so  close  to  me,  I  shall  not  fear. 

O  father,  father.  If  I  only  were  older, 
and  could  do  what  I  long  to  do.  But  I  am 
young  and  helpless,  and  there  Is  so  much 
to  be  done,”  and  she  went  to  the  window 
to  regain  her  self-control. 

“  Why,  Grace,  you  should  not  allow 
yourself  to  be  so  agitated  and  depressed.  It 
is  all  my  fault  anyway,  telling  you  about 
those  old-time  persecutions.  Run  along, 
my  daughter,  run  along,  and  make  us  a 
cup  of  tea,  and  we  can  have  a  little  tea  and 
cake  all  by  ourselves.  But  you  might  ask 
your  mother  to  come  to  the  party.”  And 
Grace,  laughing  now,  hastened  to  do  her 
father’s  bidding. 


166 


XIII 

A  SURPRISE 

June  again!  The  country  was  full  of 
color  and  fragrance.  Winter  was  abso¬ 
lutely  forgotten.  The  snow  bird,  which 
used  to  arouse  pity  as  it  flew  along  the 
frozen  ground  or  nestled  in  the  white  trees, 
was  changed  into  the  merriest  lark  that 
ever  sang  amid  the  lofty  skies. 

Purim  had  gone,  and  it  was  after  Pass- 
over.  The  lessons  of  each  festival  had  been 
duly  taught  to  Grace.  There  had  not  been 
much  Purim  jollity,  for  the  Aguilar  house¬ 
hold  was  small;  but  for  Passover  Doctor 
Van  Ullem  had  been  a  welcome  guest,  and 
what  an  acquisition  he  was  1  How  heartily 
he  joined  in  the  old  melodies,  how  delight¬ 
fully  he  told  stories,  and  how  pleasantly 
he  chatted  at  odd  moments  with  the 
daughter  of  the  house  1  Grace  had  faith¬ 
fully  helped  her  mother  to  arrange  matters, 

167 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  even  prepared,  all  by  herself,  delicious 
‘‘  brick  mortar,”  the  traditional  Haroset. 
And  how  happy  she  was  when  the  doctor 
told  her  it  was  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted. 

“  Do  you  know,  sweetheart,”  he  said  to 
her,  “  that  yours  are  almost  as  good  as  the 
cakes  we  used  to  have  in  Amsterdam  ?  And 
they  came  from  Paradise.” 

“  From  Paradise?  Why,  Doctor  Van 
Ullem,  how  ridiculous  to  say  that!  ” 

“  Yes,  yes,  yes,  my  child.  Paradise  and 
Holland  are  one  and  inseparable.  Of 
course,  you  have  heard  that  Adam  and  Eve 
spoke  Dutch  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  They 
must  have  spoken  some  language,  and  it 
was  as  much  Dutch  as  French  or  English 
anyway.  And  if  they  spoke  Dutch  ” — and 
here  the  Doctor’s  eyes  twinkled  a  little 
more  than  usual — “  they  must  have  known 
how  to  prepare  Dutch  cakes,  or  it  would 
not  have  been  Paradise.  And  there  you 


168 


A  SURPRISE 


“  How  are  those  cakes  made,  Doctor?  ” 
Grace  asked,  so  that  she  might  prepare 
some  for  one  of  his  visits  in  the  future. 

“  Well,  I  think  I  remember.  First  you 
take  some  honey,  and  then  more  honey,  and 
then  some  butter  and  sugar,  and  more 
honey.  Now  add  a  little  spice,  the  least 
bit  of  ginger,  and  more  honey,  also  a  bit 
of  citron  and  more  honey.  That  is  all. 
But  your  Haroset  cakes  are  almost  as  good, 
I  assure  you.”  Then  he  began  to  discuss 
with  Mr.  Aguilar  some  incident  in  the  Hag- 
gadah,  or  Passover  narrative,  read  before 
and  after  the  evening  meal. 

Passover,  too,  had  gone,  leaving  joyous 
memories  and  grateful  feelings.  And  now 
appeared  June,  with  its  berries  and  roses, 
its  foliage  and  its  blossoms,  which  made 
Tavistock  like  a  garden.  Then  came  the 
surprise,  and  what  a  surprise,  on  the  second 
of  June!  Would  you  know  why?  Because 
it  was  Grace  Aguilar’s  thirteenth  birthday. 

169 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


A  month  earlier  some  earnest  talks  had 
taken  place  between  her  father  and  mother, 
when  the  approaching  birthday  had  been 
discussed.  And  out  of  these  chats  came  the 
surprise !  And  what  a  surprise  I 

The  boy  and  girl  world  is  full  of  odd 
surprises,  but  none  has  ever  been  so  com¬ 
plete,  so  unexpected,  so  magnificent,  and  so 
eminently  satisfactory  as  what  happened 
an  hour  before  midday  on  that  second  of 
June.  While  Grace  was  out  taking  a  walk 
with  her  father,  a  carriage  drove  to  the 
Aguilar  home,  and  out  of  it  stepped  forth, 
in  the  brightest  possible  humor,  the  Clover 
Leaf,  with  Nap  almost  crushed  to  death 
by  the  countless  hugs  he  had  received  on 
the  journey.  That  was  a  surprise  indeed ! 
Then,  without  further  delay,  they  all  went 
to  work  with  vigor.  A  long  table  was 
spread  in  the  garden  back  of  the  house,  in 
a  corner  concealed  from  the  roadway. 

Floral  wreaths,  banners,  and  a  mass  of 

170 


A  SURPRISE 


articles  that  had  been  gathering  for  some 
weeks  came  to  light  from  different  hiding- 
places.  Doctor  Van  Ullem  had  sent  a  big 
package  of  Dutch  cakes,  made  by  a  popular 
London  pastry-cook.  Mrs.  Hall  had  for¬ 
warded  a  number  of  charming  volumes. 
There  were  boxes  of  candy  arranged  on  the 
table  like  building  blocks,  and  an  array  of 
gifts  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  well- 
equipped  shop  dealing  in  holiday  and  birth¬ 
day  presents. . 

“  Can  we  go  now?  ”  asked  Sylvia,  impa¬ 
tiently,  of  Mrs.  Aguilar. 

“  Oh,  Mrs.  Aguilar,”  Maud  added  im¬ 
ploringly,  “  we  must  begin  before  Grace 
returns.” 

“  Girls,  in  five  minutes  you  may  go  to 
work.  Mr.  Aguilar  promised  to  be  here  at 
half  past  twelve,”  and  she  gave  hurried 
glances  up  and  down  the  road.  In  five 
minutes,  Sylvia  and  Maud,  with  Nap, 

rushed  away.  There  was  a  scurrying  of 

171 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


feet,  a  smothered  peal  of  laughter,  several 
loud  barks  followed  by  emphatic  commands 
to  be  quiet,  and  then  a  suspicious  silence  in 
a  certain  inner  roomj  broken  now  and  then 
by  a  laugh  and  a  bark  that  would  not  be 
suppressed. 

At  precisely  half  past  twelve  Grace  and 
her  father  came  slowly  in  sight.  Agnes 
could  hardly  restrain  herself,  but  kept 
behind  Mrs.  Aguilar  on  the  porch,  hoping 
that  she  was  invisible. 

“  Well,  Sarah,”  Mr.  Aguilar  exclaimed,. 
“  did  we  not  return  in  time?  ”  He  was 
about  to  enter  the  house,  when  there  was 
a  sudden  exclamation,  and  Grace,  detecting 
somebody  behind  her  mother,  rushed  into 
that  somebody’s  arms.  A  pretty  tight  hug 
followed,  with  rapturous  kisses  inter¬ 
changed. 

“  Dinner’s  ready,  dinner’s  ready  I  ”  Mr. 
Aguilar  exclaimed.  “  Come,  let  us  eat  out 
there  in  the  garden.  It  will  be  so  much 

pleasanter  this  hot  day.” 

172 


A  SURPRISE 


Agnes  and  Grace  could  not  say  a  word. 
They  simply  clung  together. 

“  Hurry,  girls!  ”  It  was  Mr.  Aguilar’s 
voice  again.  “  Hurry,  girls,  or  the  dinner 
will  be  spoilt.  If  you  are  late  for  a  meal 
on  your  birthday,  Grace,  you  will  be  late 
the  whole  year.”  And  he  smiled  at  his 
daughter.  They  reached  the  garden  with¬ 
out  further  delay,  Agnes  and  Grace  with 
hands  around  each  other’s  waists. 

“  O  mother,  mother,  how  good  you  all 
are  I  ”  and  Grace  embraced  her  parents 
warmly,  with  a  special  kiss  for  Agnes,  as 
the  gaily-decorated  table  came  into  view. 
“If  only  Sylvia  and  Maud  were  here, 
Agnes,  would  they  not  be  glad  at  the 
sight?  ” 

“  And  they  are  here,”  Maud  exclaimed, 
as  she  and  Sylvia,  carrying  a  large  dish, 
marched  slowly  to  the  head  of  the  table. 
“Behold,  the  birthday  omelet!  Sylvia 

made  it,  but  I  broke  the  eggs.” 

173 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


Grace  gave  Maud  and  Sylvia  an  enthu¬ 
siastic  welcome,  and  then  all  were  ready 
for  the  midday  meal.  Suddenly  a  faint 
bark  was  heard. 

“  Heavens !  ”  cried  Maud,  “  it  is  that 
poor  dog.  I  shut  him  up  in  the  cupboard. 
He  was  barking  so  loud !  Poor  Nap !  ” 

Grace  quickly  released  him,  and  there 
was  a  scene  that  baffles  description,  for 
Nap  simply  would  not  leave  her.  After  he 
had  exhausted  his  supply  of  barks  and  leaps 
and  jumps,  he  sat  contentedly  in  her  lap, 
and  went  to  sleep  there. 

That  was  a  birthday  meal!  Search  all 
the  histories  of  the  world,  read  carefully 
the  biographies  of  celebrated  men  and 
women,  and  you  will  not  find  a  single 
episode  to  approach  It  in  the  least  degree. 
Now,  the  food  that  composed  the  repast 
was  simple  enough,  apart  from  the  Dutch 
cakes,  which  were  very  elaborate;  and  the 

beverages  were  few,  tea,  chocolate,  and 

174 


A  SURPRISE 


milk.  The  diners,  too,  were  not  many, 
merely  half  a  dozen  and  a  dog.  But  such 
warmth,  such  rapture,  such  appetites ! 
Why,  such  a  feast  was  never  equalled  in  the 
entire  history  of  England,  certainly  not  in 
the  recollection  of  the  oldest  inhabitant  of 
Devonshire,  and  in  that  section  they  live 
to  a  fairly  old  age,  owing  to  the  air  and  the 
cream. 

And  then  the  talk!  Once  there  lived  a 
clever  Greek  author,  who  wrote  a  very 
entertaining  book  on  the  meals  of  the 
learned,  and  narrated  the  after-dinner  con¬ 
versation  of  some  people  who  were  poets, 
philosophers,  and  statesmen  in  their  day. 
It  must  all  have  been  very  fine,  no  doubt, 
but  it  could  not  begin  to  compare  with  the 
Clover  Leaf  in  full  swing,  to  the  accom¬ 
paniment  of  Nap’s  bark,  when  he  awoke 
from  sleep  while  the  Dutch  cakes  were 
passed  around.  Maud,  Sylvia,  and  Agnes 
were  not  poets  or  philosophers — just  three 

175 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


happy  and  affectionate  girls,  not  angels  by 
any  means,  but  they  were  as  good  talkers 
as  any  three  young  persons  in  the  kingdom. 
That  they  did  full  justice  to  themselves  and 
the  occasion,  can  be  readily  imagined. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  all  except  Mr. 
Aguilar  and  Nap  helped  to  clear  the  table 
and  wash  the  dishes.  The  operation  did 
not  take  much  time.  A  brief  rest  followed, 
Mrs.  Aguilar  insisting  that  after  the  fatigue 
and  excitement  of  the  day  there  should  be  a 
pause.  So  the  girls  had  a  quiet  hour  in 
Mrs.  Aguilar’s  room,  really  going  to  sleep, 
until  Nap,  who  had  returned  from  a  stroll 
with  Mr.  Aguilar,  to  whom  he  had  attached 
himself  as  a  special  comrade,  barked  so 
loud  for  his  missing  playmates  that  fur¬ 
ther  rest  was  impossible. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  girls  set  out 
for  a  long  walk,  to  view  the  beauties  of  the 
scenery.  It  was  a  joyous  party  that 

tramped  along  the  fragrant  meadows  or 

176 


A  SURPRISE 


penetrated  the  cool  recesses  of  the  woods, 
now  and  then  resting  near  a  soft  hedge,  out 
of  which  would  run  a  frightened  rabbit  or 
a  squirrel.  The  flowers  did  not  vary  much 
from  those  with  which  the  visitors  were 
familiar,  but  they  found  the  ferns  of  rare 
attractiveness,  particularly  the  smaller 
varieties.  They  admired,  too,  the  sweetly- 
scented  violets  blossoming  in  the  woods. 
It  had  rained  the  previous  day,  and  the 
flowers  were  doubly  fresh  and  fragrant. 

With  keen  appetites  all  enjoyed  the  meal 
that  awaited  them  on  their  return.  Then 
the  girls  went  to  the  library  and  music 
room,  where  Mrs.  Aguilar,  who  was  a 
skilful  musician,  played  to  their  great  enjoy¬ 
ment.  Agnes,  too,  showed  no  little  pro¬ 
ficiency.  Her  Irish  melodies  delighted  her 
audience  by  their  novelty.  Sylvia  and 
Maud  could  not  play,  but  they  were  appre¬ 
ciative  listeners,  much  more  so  than  Nap, 

who  disgraced  himself  by  going  to  sleep 

177 


12 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


on  the  sofa,  and  snoring  like  a  lord  from 
time  to  time.  Evidently  he  had  had  too 
much  exertion  and  too  many  Dutch  cakes. 
As  for  Grace,  she  was  so  bewildered  by 
happiness — the  great  joy  of  being  with  her 
former  playmates — that  she  could  only 
gaze  at  them,  and  press  their  hands  and 
kiss  them  as  the  mood  seized  her.  Then 
she  would  play  on  the  piano  some  plaintive 
melody,  which  would  be  followed  by  a 
lively  Irish  jig. 

“  Girls,  I  never  felt  so  happy  in  my 
whole  life,”  she  exclaimed  as  she  stopped 
the  music  suddenly  and  faced  her  friends. 

Nor  I,”  “  Nor  I,”  “  Nor  I,”  came 
from  the  Clover  Leaf  in  rapid  succession. 

“  As  you  all  are  so  fond  of  Irish  jigs,” 
Mr.  Aguilar  observed,  “  I  think  I  shall  tell 
the  story  of  an  Irish  schoolmaster,”  and  he 
began,  partly  in  song  and  partly  in  recita¬ 
tion,  the  diverting  tale  of  a  teacher,  who 

lived  in  Killarney,  with  a  not  particularly 

178 


A  SURPRISE 


bright  set  of  pupils,  whom  he  taught  with 
too  much  kindliness,  despite  an  occasional 
tap  on  the  hand  or  fingers  with  a  light 
blackthorn  rod.  When  he  came  to  the 
reading  lesson,  the  fun  developed.  “  What 
is  the  second  letter  of  the  alphabet?  ”  he 
asked  of  Tom.  “  I  don’t  know,  sir,”  was 
the  reply.  “  Pray,  what  animal  stings  a 
boy?”  he  asked  sneeringly.  “The  wasp, 
your  Honor.”  “  And  what  else?  ”  “  A  cat’s 
paw.”  “And  what  else?”  “The  bee.” 
“  And  what  is  the  third  letter?  ”  he  asked 
of  Celia — she  had  yellow  hair,  blue  eyes, 
and  red  cheeks.  “  I  don’t  know,  sir,”  was 
the  bold  reply.  “  What  does  your  aunt  do 
out  of  her  eyes?  ”  “  She  squints,  your 

Honor.”  “  And  what  else,  stupid?  ”  “  She 
can  see.”  And  the  class  applauds  her  for 
her  cleverness.  The  letters  are  thus  re¬ 
peated,  until,  at  last,  weary  of  their  ignor¬ 
ance,  the  schoolmaster  opens  the  door  and 

bids  them  go  home  and  leave  him  in  peace, 

179 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


and  they  rush  out  with  a  terrific  tempest  of 
noise. 

So  the  evening  passed,  and  at  an  early 
hour  the  members  of  the  Clover  Leaf  went 
to  sleep.  The  Aguilar  home,  like  English 
country  homes  in  general,  had  ample  accom¬ 
modation  for  visitors. 

“  O  Mrs.  Aguilar,”  said  Agnes,  quietly, 
just  as  she  was  going  upstairs  to  rest,  “  I 
am  so  rejoiced  that  Grace  looks  strong 
again.  What  a  change  since  last  Decem¬ 
ber  !  Do  you  know  that  we  were  all  anxious 
about  her  recovery.  My  aunt  did  not 
expect  her  to  live.” 

Dearest  Agnes,”  came  the  gentle  reply, 
“  I  am  grateful  to  the  Almighty  for  His 
many  mercies.  Good  night,  my  darling. 
Sleep  well.  You  all  have  a  long  journey  in 
the  morning.  Good  night !  ” 

The  year  In  Grace  Aguilar’s  girlhood  Is 

over.  Let  us  leave  her  now  as  she  stands  In 

180 


A  SURPRISE 


the  glow  of  her  happy  days,  a  sweet-voiced, 
bright-eyed,  resolute,  helpful  girl  of  thir¬ 
teen.  Already  the  light  of  a  great  idea  is 
beckoning  her  on.  A  brave  purpose  gives 
her  hope  and  strength.  Will  she  live  to 
realize  her  ambition  and  become  a  cham¬ 
pion  of  her  faith  and  her  people?  What 
will  the  years  tell  of  Grace  Aguilar? 


181 


XIV 

WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 

Nine-tenths  of  the  battle  of  life  is  the 
preparation.  The  victory  is  won  not  so 
much  in  our  manhood  or  womanhood  as  in 
the  days  of  our  childhood.  If  then  we 
plant  aright,  we  reap  a  bountiful  harvest. 
That  is  the  moulding  time.  All  is  plastic 
then;  that  is,  mind  and  heart  are  readily 
taught,  and  can  be  shaped  as  the  teacher 
wills.  It  was  in  their  school-days  that 
Napoleon  and  Wellington  gained  the  tri¬ 
umphs  that  fell  to  their  share  in  mature  age. 
Youth  was  their  training  period. 

So  with  Grace  Aguilar.  Her  parents, 
recognizing  the  ability  of  their  child,  and 
resolving  to  mould  her  mind  and  heart 
aright  in  early  years,  gave  her  just  the 
education  she  needed.  There  was  nothing 
forced  or  mechanical  in  her  training.  She 

grew  as  naturally  as  rose  buds  and  blos- 

182 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


soms.  She  absorbed  unconsciously  the  wise, 
loving,  helpful  elements  In  her  home,  as  the 
plant  drinks  In  light,  warmth,  moisture. 
There  was  no  magic  In  the  treatment. 
There  was  nothing  strikingly  novel  or 
original  In  the  method.  It  went  back  to  a 
certain  wise  old  lawgiver,  who  bade  parents 
teach  their  children  diligently.  If  they  would 
have  their  children  follow  the  right  path 
and  live. 

In  other  words,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Aguilar 
directed  their  daughter’s  work  and  thought, 
her  alms  and  aspirations,  with  only  one 
purpose — that  under  God’s  providence  she 
might  prove  the  champion  she  desired  to 
become.  That  was  their  chief  concern. 
They  spared  no  effort  and  no  sacrifice  to 
promote  her  genuine  growth.  They  felt 
that  she  was  not  physically  strong;  hence 
they  took  her  from  school  and  taught  her 
themselves.  They  knew  that  her  mind 

was  bright  and  clear;  hence  they  strove  to 

183 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


improve  it  still  further  by  regular  work  and 
study.  They  were  convinced  that  she  had 
a  warm  and  loving  heart;  so  they  made 
their  home  a  centre  of  wise  and  loving 
influences.  And  as  she  was  a  Jewish  child, 
and  they  were  Jewish  parents,  they  resolved 
that  she  should  become  intelligent,  broad¬ 
minded,  devout  in  her  girlhood,  so  that 
her  womanhood  might  display  the  same 
qualities.  It  was  but  their  duty  to  a 
daughter,  and  doubly  so  to  one  of  Grace’s 
remarkable  gifts. 

What,  then,  was  the  harvest,  what  did 
the  years  tell  of  Grace?  Shortly  before 
her  departure  for  Germany — it  was  on 
June  1 6,  1847 — she  received  a  gift  from  a 
few  Jewish  women,  together  with  a  brief 
address,  which  read  as  follows: 

Dear  Sister: — 

“  Our  admiration  of  your  talents,  our 

veneration  for  your  character,  our  gratitude 

184 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


for  the  eminent  services  your  writings  ren¬ 
der  our  sex,  our  people,  our  faith — in  which 
the  sacred  cause  of  true  religion  is  em¬ 
bodied — all  these  motives  combine  to 
induce  us  to  intrude  on  your  presence,  in 
order  to  give  utterance  to  sentiments  which 
we  are  happy  to  feel,  and  delighted  to 
express.  Until  you  arose,  it  has  in  mod¬ 
ern  times  never  been  the  case  that  a 
woman  in  Israel  should  stand  forth,  the 
public  advocate  of  the  faith  of  Israel ;  that 
with  the  depth  and  purity  which  is  the 
treasure  of  woman,  and  the  strength  of 
mind  and  extensive  knowledge  that  form 
the  pride  of  man,  she  should  call  on  her 
own  to  cherish,  on  others  to  respect,  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Israel.  You,  Sister,  have 
done  this,  and  more.  You  have  taught  us 
to  know  and  appreciate  our  own  dignity; 
to  feel  and  to  prove  that  no  female  char¬ 
acter  can  be  more  pure  than  that  of  the 
Jewish  maiden,  more  pious  than  that  of 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


the  woman  in  Israel.  You  have  vindicated 
our  social  and  spiritual  equality  in  the 
faith ;  you  have,  by  your  excellent  example, 
triumphantly  refuted  the  aspersion,  that  the 
Jewish  religion  leaves  unmoved  the  heart 
of  the  Jewish  woman;  while  your  writings 
place  within  our  reach  those  higher  motives, 
those  holier  consolations,  which  flow  from 
the  spirituality  of  our  religion,  which  urge 
the  soul  to  commune  with  its  Maker,  and 
direct  it  to  His  grace  and  His  mercy,  as 
the  best  guide  and  protector  here  and  here¬ 
after.” 

Could  any  harvest  be  ampler  and  more 
blessed?  Could  the  years  tell  anything 
nobler  or  more  gratifying  than  such  a 
tribute  to  a  woman  of  Israel? 

Now,  what  was  Grace  Aguilar’s  actual 
work,  her  real  achievement?  She  wrote 
books  with  a  purpose,  and  that  purpose 
was  to  champion  Judaism  and  the  Jew,  our 

faith  and  religion,  our  history  and  mission. 

186 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


In  addition,  she  wrote  many  stories  of  a 
general  character,  which  were  well  received, 
and  are  still  read  in  numerous  editions, 
despite  the  crowd  of  later  authors. 

Of  her  more  general  works,  “  Home 
Influence  ”  is  perhaps  the  most  popular; 
its  sequel,  “  The  Mother’s  Recompense,” 
is  no  less  in  merit.  Both  these  books  were 
written  about  seventy-five  years  ago;  hence 
the  style  is  at  times  a  little  diffuse  and  old- 
fashioned;  but  both  are  readable  and  stimu¬ 
lating.  Then  come  “  The  Days  of  Bruce,” 
a  stirring  romance  of  Scottish  history,  and 
“  Woman’s  Friendship,”  the  one  published 
in  1851,  the  other  in  1852,  but  both  written 
earlier.  Her  volume  of  poems,  “  The 
Magic  Wreath,”  appeared  without  her 
name  in  1835,  in  her  nineteenth  year. 

Her  distinctly  Jewish  writings  were 
many.  First  as  to  her  stories.  The  best 
and  most  popular  is  “  The  Vale  of  Cedars,” 

which  was  written  before  1835.  It  is  a 

187 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


tale  of  Spain  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
gives  a  faithful  picture  of  Jewish  suffering 
and  martyrdom.  Her  “  Home  Scenes  and 
Heart  Studies  ”  and  a  number  of  other 
short  tales,  like  “  The  Perez  Family,”  com¬ 
plete  her  Jewish  episodes. 

But  most  remarkable  In  so  young  a 
writer  are  her  books  in  championship  of 
Israel,  the  most  brilliant  of  which  Is  “  The 
Spirit  of  Judaism.”  This  was  first  printed 
In  Philadelphia,  owing  to  the  kindly  Inter¬ 
est  of  Isaac  Leeser,  preacher,  editor,  and 
writer  of  rare  talent.  Then  must  be  men¬ 
tioned  “  The  Women  of  Israel,”  full-length 
portraits  of  eminent  Jewesses,  based  upon 
the  Scriptures  and  Josephus.  This  work 
appeared  In  1845,  was  followed  by 
“The  Jewish  Faith:  Its  Spiritual  Con¬ 
solation,  Moral  Guidance,  and  Immortal 
Hope.”  Some  early  essays  were  collected 
(1851-52)  In  a  volume  of  “Essays  and 

Miscellanies.”  Her  last  work  was  a  “  HIs- 

188 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


tory  of  the  Jews  in  England,”  for 
“  Chambers’  Miscellany.”  Some  of  these 
books  were  written  under  severe  physical 
strain  and  weakness,  from  which  she  never 
wholly  recovered,  and  which  were  respon¬ 
sible  for  her  early  death  at  Frankfort-on- 
the-Main,  on  September  i6,  1847,  in  her 
thirty-first  year. 

She  had  gone  thither  to  regain  her 
strength  and  to  see  the  elder  of  her  broth¬ 
ers,  who  was  studying  music,  in  which  pro¬ 
fession  he  was  to  attain  some  distinction. 
The  younger  brother  was  at  sea.  He  liked 
a  mariner’s  life,  and  he  became  a  rear- 
admiral  in  the  British  navy.  Lingering  at 
Frankfort  for  a  few  weeks,  she  went  to 
near-by  baths,  but  obtained  no  respite  from 
her  pain.  Then  she  returned  to  the  city 
where  Goethe  was  born,  and  where  the 
Rothschild  house  can  still  be  seen.  Now 
began  a  period  of  great  weakness.  Her 

chief  desire  was  to  spare  her  mother 

189 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


anxiety.  She  had  taught  herself  a  kind  of 
alphabet  with  her  fingers,  and  if  she  wished 
to  hear  some  favorite  verse  from  the  Bible 
she  would  spell  upon  them  the  Psalm 
desired.  The  last  time  her  fingers  moved 
it  was  to  spell  the  line  always  dear  to  her, 
“  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
Him.” 

And  out  there  in  the  quiet  Jewish  ceme¬ 
tery  in  historic  Frankfort  she  is  buried, 
near  the  wall  of  the  Protestant  burial- 
ground.  When  first  erected,  the  headstone 
bore  a  butterfly  and  five  stars,  and  beneath 
were  the  words  from  the  Book  of  Prov¬ 
erbs,  “  Give  her  of  the  fruit  of  her  hands, 
and  let  her  own  words  praise  her  in  the 
gates.” 

It  was  to  this  spot  that  Mrs.  Hall  made 
a  pilgrimage,  and  in  her  Art  Journal  she 
has  written  her  impressions.  Grace  had 
earnestly  asked  her  friend  to  visit  her  in 

Frankfort,  but  that  was  impossible  at  the 

190 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


time.  After  her  death,  however,  she  went 
to  the  old  city,  and  found  it  full  of  pictur¬ 
esque  sights,  with  its  busy  streets,  its  fine 
monuments,  and  its  Ghetto,  which  the 
mother  of  the  Rothschilds  would  not 
abandon,  although  her  sons  had  palaces 
elsewhere.  When  they  came  to  the  old 
house  on  the  Yahrzeit,  the  anniversary  of 
their  father’s  death,  they  begged  her  to 
leave  the  old-fashioned  dwelling  and  reside 
with  one  of  them  at  Paris,  Naples,  London, 
or  Vienna.  “  No,  no,  children,”  she  would 
reply,  “  do  not  try  to  persuade  me.  If  I 
left  this  old  house,  all  the  Mazzel  ” — need 
that  word  be  translated? — “  would  forsake 
our  family.”  And  there  she  stayed  until  the 
end. 

Of  the  Ghetto,  which  no  longer  exists  in 
its  older  sense  in  the  free  air  of  later 
decades,  Mrs.  Hall  writes  at  length.  To 
visit  the  quarter  is  like  “  going  back  to  the 

fourteenth  century  and  meeting  the  people 

191 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


you  read  of  in  history  far  gone.  Imagine 
the  narrowest  possible  streets  through 
which  a  carriage  can  drive,  flanked  on 
either  side  by  houses  so  high  that  the  blue 
sky  above  becomes  an  idea  rather  than  a 
reality;  story  after  story,  with  windows  of 
ancient  construction,  small  and  narrow, 

v 

enclosed  by  iron  gratings,  from  which  fre¬ 
quently  depended  portions  of  many-colored 
draperies;  garments  for  sale,  which  might 
have  been  of  the  spoil  of  the  Egyptian; 
strong  swords  and  all  kinds  of  weapons, 
rust-worn;  bunches  of  keys,  whose  handles 
would  drive  an  antiquary  distracted  by 
their  elaborate  workmanship;  dresses  of  all 
countries  and  all  fashions,  fez  caps,  and  old 
but  costly  turbans.  The  rich  balconies  of  the 
most  exquisite  design,  however  time-worn; 
the  jalousies,  sometimes  within,  sometimes 
without  the  windows ;  the  Atlantes,  support¬ 
ing  entablatures,  lost  none  of  their  effect 

from  being  half-draped  by  a  scarlet  mantle 

192 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


or  variegated  scarf  of  Barbary.  Numbers  of 
the  houses  were  profusely  ornamented  at 
intervals  by  ball-flowers  in  hollow  mould¬ 
ings  and  balustrades  supporting  carved 
copings.  Then  above  the  doors,  some  of 
which  evidently  led  to  an  inner  court  or  a 
mysterious-looking  passage,  was  inserted 
the  most  exquisitely  wrought  iron-work, 
sufficiently  beautiful  to  form  a  model  for  a 
Berlin  bracelet;  while  from  a  stealthy  pas¬ 
sage  peered  forth  the  half-shrouded  face 
and  illuminated  eyes  of  dazzling  brightness 
of  some  ancient  Jewess,  whose  long,  lean, 
yellow  fingers  grasped  the  strong  but 
exquisitely-moulded  handle  of  the  entrance. 

“  The  doors  (except  the  very  modern 
ones)  were  all  of  great  strength,  frequently 
studded  with  nails,  and  the  bolts,  now  worn 
and  rusty,  had  withstood  many  a  rude 
assault.  We  passed  beneath  small  oriel 
windows,  supported  by  richly-carved  stone 

brackets,  grey  and  mouldering;  and  beside 

193 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


bay  windows  of  pure  Gothic  times;  and 
when  we  gazed  up,  up,  up,  story  after 
story,  we  saw  what  appeared  to  us  more 
than  one  Belvedere,  doubtless  erected  by 
some  wealthy  Jew  as  a  place  from  whence 
he  could  view  the  city  it  was  forbidden 
him  to  tread,  or  to  enjoy  pure  air,  which 
certainly  he  could  not  do  in  the  densely 
close  street  beneath.  Many  of  the  brackets 
supporting  a  solitary  balcony  were  of 
beautiful  design,  though  the  greater  num¬ 
ber  were  defaced  and  crumbling.  We  also 
passed  several  of  the  fan-shaped  windows, 
so  characteristic  of  the  early  German  style, 
and  here  and  there  a  fantastic  gargoyle; 
from  the  mouth  of  one  depended  a  bunch 
of  soiled  but  many-colored  ribands.  What 
a  vision  it  seems  to  us  now,  that  wonderful 
Jews’  quarter  of  the  bright  and  busy  city  of 
Frankfort!  A  vision  of  some  far-off 
Oriental  Pompeii,  repeopled  in  a  dream! 
Never  did  we  look  upon  faces  so  keen  and 


WHAT  THE  YEARS  TOLD 


withered,  beards  so  black,  or  eyes  so  bright; 
once  we  saw  a  curly-headed  child,  half- 
naked  in  its  swarthy  beauty,  throned,  like 
a  baby  king,  upon  a  pile  of  yellow  cushions ; 
and  once  again,  as  we  drove  slowly  on,  a 
tall  young  girl  turned  up  a  face  of  scornful 
beauty,  as  if  she  thought  we  pale-faced 
Christians  had  no  business  there — and 
those  two  young  creatures  were  all  we 
clearly  observed  of  youthful  beauty  within 
the  ‘  Quarter.’  ” 

Then,  after  the  visit  to  the  Ghetto,  she 
drove  leisurely  to  the  Jewish  cemetery. 
From  the  entrance  gate  the  view  was  beau¬ 
tiful.  Like  a  panorama  the  city  was  spread 
out,  the  scene  was  illumined  by  the  bright¬ 
est  sunshine.  In  the  distance  a  girl  was 
seated  beneath  the  branches  of  a  spreading 
tree,  weaving  garlands,  which  the  visitors 
bought  to  adorn  the  graves  of  departed 
friends.  The  gates  were  open.  She  soon 

found  the  grave,  and  accomplished  the 

195 


THE  YOUNG  CHAMPION 


object  of  her  pilgrimage.  ‘‘  It  was,  though 
in  a  foreign  city,  a  pilgrimage  to  an  English 
shrine,  for  it  was  to  the  grave  of  an  Eng¬ 
lish  woman,  pure  and  good.” 

A  few  years  ago,  a  friend  set  out  one  day 
from  Frankfort  to  photograph  the  tomb. 
When  he  reached  the  spot,  he  found  the 
Inscription  to  be  too  illegible  for  such 
a  purpose.  Although  the  words  can  no 
longer  be  read  as  of  old,  the  name,  the 
character,  the  work  of  Grace  Aguilar  will 
resist  decay  for  ages,  and  they  cannot  be 
blotted  out  by  storm  or  rain,  or  time’s  bit¬ 
ing  ravages.  They  are  immortal,  like  the 
faith  of  Israel,  which  from  her  early 
girlhood  she  championed  so  resolutely  and 
unfalteringly. 


196 


Borb  (^afttmore  (preee 

BALTIMORE,  MD.,  TJ.  S.  A. 


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